


Dan's Secret VALentine Plans

by Bijali_Lightning



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Dan charms Amity Park, Dan-disguised-as-human, Dark Gray (Dan/Val), Drama & Romance, F/M, Justice and morality debates, Major Character Injury, Many literary references and puns, Nathan stalking Valerie, References to violence language and sexual content, Reposted from FF.net
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 63,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22850272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bijali_Lightning/pseuds/Bijali_Lightning
Summary: Part of theDark Gray Deliverance Collection.Valerie hates Valentine's Day for one major reason.Dan capitalizes off that reason, using a familiar human appearance to spend more time with Valerie and keep her safe from her stalker. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Valerie Gray/Dan Phantom
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64
Collections: Deliverance





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! And welcome to the first AO3 upload of Deliverance! This is one of my favorite stories I've written in the collection, so I've chosen to start with it. I hope you enjoy!

Valerie stared in horror. "Oh my god," she said. Her voice was strangled. "You've got to be kidding me."

Her long-time stalker from high school, Nathan, stood up from his kneeling position, eyes desperate. "Please," he begged her. He held out a delicately made card and a small, red box—both of which supposedly were symbols of his undying love. "I've been waiting a long time to ask you. Just one date. One night."

"You ask the same thing every year," she told him, voice hard with strangled terror. "Nathan, seriously. This is weird. You told me you'd stop."

"But you don't understand!" He looked as though he would cry. "I can't help it. I love you. I'd die for you. Please, Val: just this once! Please, just be my valentine this one time!"

Nathan had undergone many transformations during adolescence. Although he had tamed his wild, red afro into short locks, switched his coke bottle glasses for contacts, and shaped up through basic training, he was still quite socially awkward. And by socially awkward, Nathan primarily obsessed over nothing but Valerie, who had become even more of a heroine to him since she had obtained Military Commander status.

She backed away, feeling suffocated by his presence. "I don't want to be your valentine, or your girlfriend. Or your anything. I'm sick of this."

"Why won't you say yes?" he begged.

She backed away. "I'm not interested." She hardened her voice against him. "And if you keep asking me, I _will_ get a restraining order on you."

The man looked terrified at the thought. "No, no. I can't be away. Don't do that—please."

"Then stop stalking me!" Valerie nearly begged. "Seriously. You creep me out more than Phantom does, and that's saying something."

Nathan stepped closer to her. Valerie stepped back. "I'm not stalking you." He raised his gifts to her again. "And I'm better than Phantom. Come on. We're getting older." He looked desperate. "We're almost twenty-five, and you're still alone, and I am too. How long do I have to wait? How many rings do I have to buy you before you say yes?"

Nathan had put a lot of time and money into his gifts, which made Valerie's horror and guilt even greater. The reminder of her own age and relationship status made her twice as skittish. "Please tell me that's not another wedding ring," she pleaded, staring down at the small jewelry box in his hand.

The man opened his mouth to respond, but suddenly, Valerie's Phantom Tracker on her suit began to bleep. She looked down, visible relief sliding off every line in her body. "Oh, thank God," she said. Then she caught herself, and she looked up at Nathan. "Er, I mean I have to go save Amity Park! Again!" She laughed nervously, face tight with fear. She didn't want to actually appear _grateful_ for Phantom's well-timed appearance, but…she was horrible with emotions and even more horrible with confronting other people's emotions about her.

The red-head gazed at her, heartbroken even within his worship of her. "Valerie, please. Don't go. Tell me you'll say yes."

She mentally called forth her jet sled, and it configured under her feet as she jumped into the air.

_Just gotta get away—!_

And she left Nathan in the silence of the morning, his arms drooping to the ground, his valentine's card falling into the mud.

* * *

Within minutes, Valerie breathed in the open air of the Wastelands, free from the presence of Nathan. "Oh thank god," she called out. She was so relieved to get away, she hadn't even unholstered her blaster yet, and she'd left her helmet off. She floated in some aimless trajectory based upon Phantom's last location. "I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't show up at all."

Her Phantom Tracker bleeped out an increasing rhythm. He was nearby.

From beyond the wreckage that was once a large skyscraper, black mist appeared and configured itself into the sharp lines of Dan Phantom. The powerful ghost crossed his arms as he leaned against a rusting beam. "Why is it," he drawled slowly, eyebrow raised, "that every Valentine's Day you _want_ me to fight you? Still trying to avoid your adoring fans?"

Valerie paused on her jet sled. She still looked distracted and relieved, despite the appearance of her worst enemy. "Just one in particular."

"Aww," he mocked in false sympathy. "But this is your holiday, after all. It's Valentine's Day. _Val_ entine. Get it? You were destined to suffer per the cosmic irony."

"That is so not funny."

"Of course it is," he said lightly, his demonic voice reverberating through the air in echoes. "Any way that you suffer is funny to me. Especially when you preach to me about the power of love, only to victimize yourself by its principles."

As the woman pulled out her trusty blaster, she made a face. "This isn't love. You try being stalked by an obsessed dude for ten years and see how you like it."

He hummed. "I can't imagine it being much more different than having a crazy woman chase me on a jet sled six days a week."

"Uh, there's a _big_ difference," she said shortly, glaring at him. "You keep coming back to my turf for more punishment out of your own free will. I try to avoid this guy, and he keeps finding me no matter where I hide."

Dan sniffed haughtily, as if to dismiss the sound logic of Valerie's response. But his ruby eyes measured her up with a calculation deeper than just nonchalance.

She looked truly more at ease with him than she had a minute ago, when every line of her body was still tense with her escape from Amity Park. And yet Dan had always been under the impression that he was the most terrifying being in her life. How strange that he felt multiple emotions rise, many of them dark with possession and anger, at the thought that he wasn't her greatest enemy.

He pushed off the rusted beam to stand tall with a rather selfless offer. His eyes glinted with darkness. "If it's still that Nathan kid doing all this, I'll slit his throat for you. Free of charge. My Valentine's Day gift to you."

Shock and surprise flickered across Valerie's dark features. He knew her stalker's name? But then she quickly recovered, glaring. "As much as I know you're really sacrificing yourself for my benefit," she said dryly, "I can handle Nathan on my own."

The powerful ghost grew quite delighted. "I don't think you can," he challenged. "You're too soft. "

"You're just looking for an excuse to kill people." She raised her blaster at him, eyebrow raised. "That's not gonna work, Phantom."

"Oh no?" he said, staring at her. "Why are you protecting him from me? Are you truly not aware of the depths of his own insanity?"

"I'm fully aware."

"And yet you brush off ten years of his stalking like it's nothing. Truly, I'd hate for your stalker to one day snap under the pressure and kill you." He looked mournful. "It would ruin all the wonderful deaths I have planned for you. Slitting Nathan's throat is entirely within your best interests."

"Nathan's _not_ going to kill me in some...weird stalker way," she argued hotly, although the thought struck her uneasily. "And you can't kill me either."

His fingers began to spark with red energy. "Would you like to test that last theory?" he said casually.

In a blur, she raised her blaster and shot at him. He narrowly avoided the blast and flipped back, laughing. "Oh, Valerie," he called to her. "You're just itching for a fight, aren't you?"

"Itching for target practice, more like it." She shot at him again, and he retaliated by shooting back. Valerie easily avoided it.

But instead of irritation, he watched her movements with amusement. He called out, "So if you're here to fight with me on Valentine's Day, does that make me your valentine?"

"No." Her voice was flat as she tracked him with her blaster. "Absolutely not. It just makes you a good distraction from all the other crap in my life."

A wide and mischievous smile split his face. "Oh, I think it makes me your valentine." His eyes grew a bit half-lidded. " _And_ a good distraction."

Her aim faltered.

She swallowed hard, backing away on her jet sled. That look in Phantom's eye was never a good thing for her sanity. "I'm not in the mood for these kinds of games today," she warned him.

"Then what kind of games are you in the mood for?" he asked impatiently. "Really, Valerie. It's Valentine's Day. Your options are going back to Amity Park to suffer from your groupies, or to stay here with me and suffer under my genius. I'm obviously the better option, in case you can't think this through."

"Of course I can think this through," she snapped, blushing in anger at his insult. "And if you can too, then you should know that the last thing I wanna do is have to put up with your flirting."

He appeared insulted. "After everything I do for you?" he wondered. His bared his fangs with a light snarl. "You're so ungrateful."

She put a hand on her hip. "And what have you ever done for me?"

Dan crossed his arms. "After ten years," he complained, "I would think you know that I always spend Thursdays in the Ghost Zone."

"Yeah?" she challenged. Of course she'd known about his Thursday escapades. "So what?"

" _Today_ is Thursday," he pressed. His fingers and eyes sparked red, although his lips widened with a strange smile. "And yet here I am, breaking up the lovefest from your admirer instead of basking in the terror of my Ghost Zone victims. "

For a time, she still didn't quite get it. Her mind raced with the underlying meaning of his words (he was never quite clear about what he really intended to say). But she knew deep down that the ghost was suggesting he'd sacrificed something personal to save her from a day of hiding from Nathan, despite his previous claims about enjoying her love-based suffering.

It was then that she realized for the first time perhaps Phantom was not the only one who relied upon their fights for…something beyond just Amity Park. Whatever it was.

Meaning? Escape?

Such thinking was a dangerous path to go down. It would mean that Phantom had motives beyond selfish ones. Motives that involved her in an almost-positive way.

She couldn't hide her small blush. "You saying you came here to get me away from Nathan—on purpose?"

The pressure between them began to grow in the silence—the same type of pressure that had begun building its foundations in every second that Dan exhibited human behavior, those split sparks of genuine personality.

Dan's eyes roved over her. He said, avoiding her question, "You should know that sometimes, I really do see you as a deplorable nuisance in my life." He tilted his head. "And other times I don't."

Her fingers paused on her blaster.

In an unexpected flash of light and a powerful push, he suddenly flipped her off of her jet sled. She yelped and she crashed hard onto the ground, stunned by the move. (Had he really just attacked her after complimenting her?)

The force was enough to steal her breath for a second. Her own idiocy made her stall.

(What had she been expecting instead of an attack? A sudden declaration of love? A sappy, Valentine's Day moment where he would maybe surprise her with a kiss on the cheek and a whisper that he hated any man taking her attention away from him?)

And _why_ did she even want that?

But her misguided fantasy and subsequent identity crisis was broken by Dan's body blocking the view of the winter clouds above her.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he said, smiling cheekily. He leaned over her a bit, leering. " _Val_ entine."

In a daze, she gasped for air. Then on pure instinct, she grabbed for the edge of his cape and yanked hard. The collar around his neck cut deep into him, and his red eyes widened at the sudden suffocation, grabbing for the collar. His entire body wrenched sideways as she grabbed higher. Valerie coiled herself, using Dan's imbalanced body as a fulcrum to flip herself up, and he gasped at the hard weight that tore through his neck.

The instant her feet hit the dirt in a solid landing, she stood up tall and released his cape. And she tilted her head a bit, considering Phantom's last words. _Happy Valentine's Day, huh?_

"Why Phantom," she mocked in a false-coo of love, waving at the space between them as the ghost stared at her in awe. "A fight just for me? You didn't have to get me anything for Valentine's Day."

Phantom carefully readjusted the collar of his suit to ensure his cape would not fall off, still intrigued with how quickly she'd turned the tables in her favor. He occasionally forgot that she was a black belt with hand-to-hand combat experience. They usually didn't get close enough for that. He turned to her fully, his eyes glinting with too many conflicting emotions. Among them was some kind of respect and appreciation. He called forth his power, and between his fingers bubbled a large surge of blinding light. "Anything for you, _sweetheart_."

* * *

Sometime later that night, after Valerie had returned from the Wastelands with a few new bruises and a pleasant report that she'd beaten Dan back to the Zone, Nathan paced. He was outside the resistance building, contemplating ways to break into Valerie's room through her window. It was cold out, the winter air crisp. But he was truly debating if, what points he lost for property damage, he could make up for in originality.

There were only a few hours left of Valentine's Day. And if he let this day pass, then the magic of the whole day would be lost on Valerie, and he would not be able to capitalize off of her "hard to get" ploys.

Because that's all they were. Just some kind of feminine wiles, surely.

"Gotta get in somehow," he moaned, his mind blitzing with images of _ValerieValerieValerie_. He didn't know how much longer he could take it. The denial was too much. He just had to have her. Somehow. Her window was only a short walk away.

But as he paced along, his breath puffing in the night air, he realized there was a second presence. He looked up, and from out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a man appearing from the mists.

The man walked toward him, a friendly smile on his face. He had dark hair and striking blue eyes. His jeans were faded with the dirt of long travels. His pale skin was nearly a ghostly white, and he appeared relatively unaffected by the bitter cold despite only wearing a leather jacket over his civilian clothing.

"Hey," he called out, his voice a sharp baritone, "you're Nathan, right?"

"Yes?"

The man neared closer, and he smiled, as if to introduce himself. "Good." Then he pulled his fist back and punched Nathan hard in the face.

Nathan cried out, reeling and stumbling to the snowy ground, feeling bone and blood explode into a spray of red. His whole body seized under the steel power of the man's fist. "Agh," he moaned, voice strangling in a high whimper. He pulled his hands away, terrified at the blood running from his now-broken nose.

Without warning, the man grabbed Nathan's collar and hauled him up. He slammed him against the brick wall of the resistance building. "I've been meaning to have this chat with you."

Nathan winced, his entire body shaking with fear. "W-who are you?" he gasped. "Why would you—?"

"—I'm Valerie's boyfriend," he said pleasantly, a hissing note of fury buzzing beneath his voice. "And I don't share well." He nearly crushed Nathan's windpipe. The smaller man struggled for air beneath the almost-inhuman, steel grip. "I heard you keep giving her grief. Obviously, you pose no threat to me. You disgust Valerie. But she's too nice to put you out of your misery. So I will."

Nathan gasped. "N-no!" He weakly pulled at the man's fingers. "Please! I d-didn't know! I didn't know she had a boyfriend."

The man's blue eyes were like flint, nearly flashing red with their steely anger. "Of course you wouldn't," he said. "Because Valerie doesn't broadcast her love life to every worm like you to know. She's got bigger concerns than herself, which makes her kinda respectable." He snarled. "Unlike you."

Nathan was still seeing stars that were somewhat Valerie-shaped. It was becoming harder to think and focus on reality. His brain was starving for oxygen.

The man jerked him against the brick wall, as if to awaken him. "So here's how this is going to work," he said. "I'll be watching you from now on. If I catch you even looking at her the wrong way, I will hunt you down and kill you."

The lovesick boy nearly collapsed. "B-but…I love her! How can I deny that—?!"

"—You don't love her," the man retorted. Then he released Nathan, who collapsed against the wall. "If you did, you would have listened to her. Now stay out of Valerie's way and don't even think of touching one hair on her head. _Got it, worm_?"

Nathan weakly nodded. It was about all he could do.

Then the man sniffed haughtily, flicked his fingers to rid himself of Nathan's blood, and walked away.

Nathan lay there for some time, gasping, holding onto his red throat, trying to cry while breathing out blood. He turned his head sideways in paranoia to look at the man who had attacked him.

But the mysterious man was gone, the fog misting over the silent city block.

* * *

The next day, and the day after, and even the day after that, Nathan did not bother Valerie. Rather, he freaked into a shuddering horror at the sight of her, and then scuttled along into the shadows, looking over his shoulder. The change was pleasant, if not a bit disconcerting to Valerie. But she didn't question it. She assumed his swollen and broken nose and increasing interest in turtlenecks was because he had finally pissed off Dash, or some other guy. Nathan was most likely avoiding everyone until he came out of his fear-driven defenses.

It wasn't until days later that she realized what was actually wrong.

A little after 4:00 am, she stumbled into the women's washrooms, still in her pajamas, her hair in a frizz. She had to ready herself for another day of protecting Amity Park, before Phantom himself would come to threaten the Human World in his weekly rounds.

The washroom itself was uninhabited but for one other woman, Paulina, with whom Valerie had been slowly rebuilding a friendship. The Latina had become slightly more mature in her years of suffering from material deprivation and hardship—although she still prided herself on her appearance. Paulina leaned towards the large mirror before her as she combed her long, luxurious hair, "So, chica," she said point-blank, without even a greeting. "Time to spill. Who is he?"

Valerie was tired and dazed, and she leaned against the wall, still sore from her fights with Dan Phantom. "Who's who?" she yawned.

"Word's going around that your secret boyfriend beat up Nathan a few nights ago." The Latino woman turned to Valerie, her blue eyes dark with amused betrayal. "I didn't even know you had a secret boyfriend! What's this about, huh?"

Valerie blinked. "My…secret boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Paulina nodded, suspicious. "Dash beat it out of Mikey, who talked to Kwan, who said he patched Nathan up." She poked Valerie's arm with great accusation. "So tell me who this mystery guy is."

Again, Valerie felt nothing if not deep confusion and some kind of horror. "I don't have a secret boyfriend," she said slowly. "And I don't know who beat up Nathan, but it couldn't have been because of me."

Paulina was unconvinced. "Kwan said that Nathan was crying over how this guy threatened him to stay away from you. So don't try to wiggle out of this, chica."

The black woman paled a bit. "You're kidding. What did he look like? Is he part of the resistance? A new stalker or something?"

"Uh, black hair, blue eyes?" Paulina leaned in, eyes sparkling. "Really muscled." She poked Valerie's stomach. "So come on, tell me who he is already. He sounds hot. I wanna know who he is."

The description didn't really match up to anything in her mind. Valerie turned away to pull her ringlet hair back into a ponytail. "I have no idea who this guy is," she said, worried. "Seriously. You have to believe me. Did he give Nathan a name?"

Paulina shook her head. "Just said he was your boyfriend."

Someone began to pound on the door outside of the public washroom. "Valerie?" a man's muffled voice called out. It was her father, who usually woke up even earlier than she did. "Hey, you in there?"

_Dammit_ , she thought with a mental groan. Then she called back, "Yeah? What's up?"

"We've got a visitor from outside the Shield. Says he's here to see you."

Her face twisted in surprise. "At this hour? If it's another resistance delegate, can't you handle it?"

"He says he doesn't represent any of the resistance factions. Just a drifter. He calls himself an old friend of yours, from back in the day. Whenever you're ready, we'll be waiting for you in my office."

Valerie looked to Paulina, who stared back with a raised brow.

"Is this your _secret_ boyfriend, maybe?" Paulina asked, her accented voice tinged with gossipy potential.

"Dammit, Paulina. I don't have a boyfriend." Valerie quickly combed her frizzy hair back into a ponytail (just in case there really was someone she knew from her past). "It's probably just…I dunno. Somebody."

The vagueness of it all was starting to bother her. Who did she know from the other resistance circles on earth who would come by to visit her so urgently in the morning?

She quickly shed her pajamas and donned her military fatigues. "Maybe it's someone from the weapons advancement team in Russia," she wondered out loud. "I've been waiting on some schematics from them."

"Your papa said he wasn't representing a faction," Paulina pointed out dryly. "So no Russia."

Valerie made a face. "Well, he has to be from somewhere, right?"

The Latino woman just smiled. "Like your _past_?"

* * *

In short order, Valerie quickly raced through the resistance building. Her curiosity was mounting. Who was this strange visitor? Did he have anything to do with the attack on Nathan? Was everything just coincidence?

She approached her father's office, which was located not far from the main entrance. She pushed open the door, expecting the mystery man to be sitting opposite her father.

But no one aside from her father was there.

"Uh, Daddy?" she called out, eyebrows furrowing. "Where is he?"

"He stepped outside to smoke," Damon Gray said, not even looking up from his paperwork. "A bad habit for such a charming man."

At least her father did not seem too alarmed by this individual, if that were any indication. She asked, "You guys talked? What was his name?"

"He said his nickname was 'D.' Now go on, dear. You've kept him waiting long enough. He indicated that speaking with you was urgent."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah." The name 'D' didn't sound familiar. She supposed that was both comforting and terrifying. Without further ado, she turned away from the office and towards the main entrance of the building, where the huge double doors led to the outside world.

She opened the doors, and a blast of cold air struck her. "Jesus," she gasped. Her military uniform was not thick enough to stave off the February weather. "Freaking cold out here!"

Valerie wrapped her arms around herself instinctively. She thought as she narrowed her eyes, _How the hell can anyone stand to be out here?_

And then she saw him.

A man in jeans, combat boots, and a dark leather jacket stood at the foot of the steps, turned towards her. A burning cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. And he looked almost like a human version of one Dan Phantom.

She froze.

He smiled, an all-too familiar smirk darkening his features. "…Hello, Valerie."


	2. Chapter 2

Valerie's immediate response to Dan's false-human appearance was to conjure her battle suit. Tight circuitry and advanced weapons systems wove over her body, locking into place. Within seconds, she stood before him in her sleek armor. The edges glinted harshly in the fluorescent street lamps.

"You." The word strangled from her mouth. She'd known for some time about Dan's real past, but it was painful to think of. She usually tried to forget it. And yet, now he stood before her, shape-shifted to mimic his old skin. Her heart pounded in deep fear. "How did—How did you get in here?!"

Alarms were firing in her mind. _Oh my god. Oh my god._ _Dan is on my fucking front step. Holy shit._ She raised her hand, prepared to fire off several rounds of explosives from the reserves in her arm sleeves.

Phantom inhaled deep on his cigarette, closing his eyes. Then he breathed out the smoke, and it puffed along the winter wind in tendrils. "Do you like this disguise?" he asked, avoiding her questions. "I have appropriated the stereotypical 'bad boy' image, which I thought would be most advantageous for this stretch of our chess game. Truly, any boyfriend of Valerie Gray the Ghost Slayer would be just as misguided as she is."

For a time, she simply stood there—in awe or horror, she didn't know. She had not seen Phantom take on a human image for years. His black hair was much longer now, pulled back in a messy ponytail that ended at his shoulder-blades. The wind had pulled loose several strands, whipping them about not unlike his usual fire hair. His blue eyes nearly glowed. His toned body filled out the lines of his leather jacket and jeans in ways that belied the danger beneath.

This was what Danny Fenton would have looked like, had he lived. But his face was twisted with too much calculation and arrogance. The way he carried himself oozed with some kind of inhuman darkness. And that damn cigarette, jauntily tilting from his lips—Danny had never smoked.

"Where the hell did you even get that outfit?" she demanded.

He smiled. "Stole it off some soldier a long time ago. Lucky me, he even had the cigarettes with him."

Something about that sparked deep anger in Valerie, overriding her fear. She stomped forward and pulled the cigarette from his mouth without so much of a warning. "You are desecrating Danny's image," she spat, furious. She threw the burning cigarette onto the snowy concrete. "Stop playing pretend and change back. Now."

He looked down at the cigarette, the spark of which had sputtered out. "I was using that to raise my core temperature," he pouted. "Do you even understand how difficult it is to fake human warmth?"

"No, and I don't care," she hissed. "Change back."

He leaned forward to close the space between them, blue eyes glinting dark. "Absolutely not," he said. "Valerie Gray has a boyfriend from beyond the Shield, whom everyone is talking about. She also has a stalker, whom this boyfriend attacked. I have appropriated Fenton's image again so that I may save you from several…concerning social issues."

She looked somewhat horrified and tongue-tied. "You are _not_ my boyfriend."

Was Dan Phantom really standing there in a human disguise.…Calling himself her _boyfriend_?

He gently grabbed onto one of her armored hands, sinking his strong fingers between hers and tightening his grip. She nearly flinched in surprise. "You did date Danny Fenton for a while, so it's not entirely a lie. And if I played the concerned family friend," he said, "then my disguise would be less fun." He pulled her closer and whispered, "We wouldn't be able to touch each other like how I know we want to."

Her face flushed a deep red. She backed up and snatched her hand away, despite the strange skip of her heart. "Stop it," she said, voice hard. "This isn't funny."

His thin lips spread wide again. Although his voice had lost its ghostly echo, the deep baritone of his voice still rumbled through her in ways nothing else could. "I suppose not. But your blush is."

If it were possible, her blush deepened and spread over her whole skin. She was thankful she wore her battle suit to hide most of herself from him, because she was sure he would laugh and mock her for her "innocent" reactions. Before they dived down an even more awkward argument, she switched subjects and demanded, "You never answered my question, you know. About how you got in here. The Shield should have stopped you, cause there's no way you can hide your ecto-signature."

Dan smiled cheekily. He rummaged in his coat pocket for a lighter and another cigarette, which he carelessly lit, as if he'd had a lot of practice. "Our close combat encounters over the last days gave me an advantage. Notice anything different about your suit since last week?"

Cold, wavering horror began to seep into her. She quickly glanced down at herself, turning her arms sideways to glance at the circuits. "No?"

He boasted, "I gave your suit an upgrade with a little device. It emits a frequency that interrupts Amity Park's ability to recognize my ectoplasmic signature. Try behind your neck."

The cold horror within her bloomed into full terror. Her shaking fingers reached up to the base of her neck, and some part of her nearly cried when she felt an uneven bump, right at the lines between the suit's panels. "What the—?"

She pulled it away, and then she stared at it in awe. It was a simple circuit the size of a quarter, painted black to blend in with her armor. But its design was entirely foreign.

Her breath hitched as she crushed it in her armored hand. Then she allowed the broken circuit to fall to the ground, where it sizzled against the snow. She looked horrified. "Oh my god. Oh my god."

Dan laughed. "By now, that virus has been uploaded to all of Amity Park's systems. You'd have to offline your entire defense protocols, including the Shield, to reset it." He looked over at her lazily. He dragged on his cigarette again, even though it did little more than puff hot air into him. His lungs were already dead. "Did you know I have an army in the Zone on standby to attack the very instant you turn off the Shield?"

She nearly hyperventilated. "What the—how the hell could—?!" Words failed her. She suddenly felt as if the man before her was a stranger. Dan must have been planning this for a long, long time. Learning source code here and there. Stealing technology on the side. All of their daily fights were just fronts for a deeper, more insidious war—in which he now stood as the veritable Trojan horse to take Amity Park down from the inside.

(When had Dan ever worked with other ghosts? Had the Fright Knight finally decided to serve him? When had Dan learned to hack?!)

She suddenly felt horribly violated and naked in her battle suit. He'd crippled Amity Park's defenses through her. "Y-you…"

"Check and mate," he said, blue eyes twinkling with great excitement as he watched her melt down. "Nothing like a little fun behind enemy lines to spice up the war, huh?"

Her fingers shook as she grabbed the blaster at her hip and raised the barrel to his heart. "I'll tell everyone who you are," she promised, voice wavering. "I'll destroy you before you can shed that skin."

He laughed genuinely. "Then I will simply retaliate in kind against your precious town. Mutually assured destruction." He breathed in the toxins from his cigarette. Heat rushed through him again in a way that nearly made him smile. "As it stands, my motives are not to destroy Amity Park. So you would do well to let me walk among you and complete my business."

For a time, she maintained her blaster level at his chest, knowing instinctively that it would not stop him. She also knew she could not risk angering him into attacking. While Dan Phantom was rarely ever explicit in his meanings, he was usually true to the motives he expressed. And he was right—he appeared entirely unconcerned with everything but her. She asked slowly as she lowered her blaster, "And what is your business here?"

"Don't look so terrified. This is all for your benefit."

"Like _what_ benefit?" she demanded. "Besides giving me a heart attack?"

He huffed, "I need to mitigate your life issues and maximize your time spent fighting me. I do know that one of the issues in my way is Nathan's obsession with you."

In other words, Phantom was suggesting he actually had her in mind. It was not unlike Valentine's Day, when he had sacrificed his time so she could fight him instead of fighting off Nathan. She swallowed hard. "You're here to destroy Amity Park. This has nothing to do with me. Or Nathan."

He smiled something terrible. "Valerie, you must understand. I am immortal. I _will_ conquer Amity Park one day, if not simply because you are so finite. But for now, I appreciate your mildly amusing attempts to stop me." Some kind of sadness overcame him. "I'll have no one to banter with after you die. Which is why I became quite concerned when I realized that much of your time here in Amity Park is spent not thinking about me and our games, but avoiding one Nathan Green."

Her eyes narrowed. "Between the egotistical narcissism and monologuing, I could've sworn I heard _concern_. That's rich, coming from you."

He stepped forward, ignoring the insult. He said in great seriousness, "You fear your pathetic stalker more than you fear me. I never realized this until last Valentine's Day. But it's true, isn't it?" He threw his cigarette to the ground, his eyes remaining locked with hers.

"You're littering," Valerie pointed out.

"So did you. And you're avoiding my question."

"Your question sounded rhetorical."

He crossed his arms, raising a brow. "Which means that you _are_ quite terrified of your stalker."

Valerie began to feel boxed by the truth and the ever-enclosing circle of their argument. Her eye twitched. "Look, I don't know why you're so 'concerned' for me, but I can handle—!"

He moved closer, physically gaining ground against her. "—And I don't think you realize how dangerous it is to allow someone to stalk you for ten years. You have insects here who want to hurt you in ways I never would, to hide you away for their own purposes. I can't allow anyone to interrupt our chess game and kill you before your time." His face shadowed a bit with some kind of psychotic anger. "No one can steal you from me. Especially not someone like Nathan."

She backed away. "I'm not yours."

Dan ignored her. "And how long?" he demanded. "How long before he would have snapped? In time, he would have lost control. And with your morality, you would have let Nathan kill you."

"No, he wouldn't!"

"You have no idea how obsessions work," the ghost said dryly. "Take my word for it, they define your life. You breathe for them." He crossed his arms, his face twisting a bit darker. "Even though I have temporarily…convinced Nathan otherwise, he will return to his ways without my presence to remind him."

The concept was one that placed an inkling of fear back into Valerie. "I don't need you to fight my battles for me," she said, voice rising.

"Don't you want your stalker to leave you alone forever?" he asked.

She did. He saw her hesitance. "Then let me help you. Play along with me," he tempted. "Together, we'll stop Nathan for good—if he's smart, he'll learn to leave you alone. If he's not smart, then I _will_ ensure that you enforce measures against him." He smiled evilly. "Or I'll enforce those measures for you."

She huffed a bit, feeling fully caged. The options were few, considering Phantom was oddly adamant on helping her. She supposed she could give in, especially since telling Nathan "no" and threatening restraining orders hadn't worked. She rubbed her temples with her hand. "I don't trust you," she deadpanned.

"I'm already here," he laughed lightly. "And yet your town still stands. I entered the resistance, and yet the building remains unharmed. I faced your father earlier, and he not only continues to live, but he enjoyed my presence. No one will know the truth."

She paused, feeling trapped. She began to quickly weigh and measure the consequences. Was there a downside to this? If she allowed him to parade about as her boyfriend, would she suffer under it somehow? If he pretended to be her boyfriend, would he try to kiss her, touch her?

…And would that be so bad, considering how much she thought of it anyways?

"Come on, Val," he tempted. "I'll be on my _best_ behavior. If we both play our parts, we'll both get what we want. I won't even kill anyone." The psychotic darkness that covered him began to lighten with a bright smile. "Why, I can even deceive people into thinking I'm quite charming."

She hesitated, and she stared at him for a long, long time. The resolve upon her face began to visibly wear down. Defeat and tiredness began to creep into her face and the lowering, protective stance of her shoulders.

Dammit, she really _did_ want to stop Nathan for good. Pretending to have a boyfriend around would dash his hopes and make him finally believe that he wasn't the one for her. And something about using Dan—

It made her heart pound, but not in fear. She'd always remained lightly attracted to him, even after he'd gone insane. And maybe this situation had more advantages than he had described. He would have to submit to normal human morality and culture, if only for a time. Maybe she could convince him to…enjoy it? To see that Amity Park was worth saving? That maybe their chess games could morph into something more of a positive rivalry? (With some added benefits?)

She pointed her finger at him. "You gotta swear you won't try anything funny."

Dan's face split into a wide, dark grin.

* * *

As they entered back into the resistance building, Dan passed by the multiple cameras and ecto-sensors (technology designed mostly for him) without one blip of suspicion.

Valerie felt apprehensive. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she breathed as her armor retracted, exposing her military fatigues—her unarmored body. Everything was real. Dan wasn't attacking her or anything else. The virus he had uploaded was everywhere. Her heart was beginning to pound harder.

"Believe it, Valerie." He intertwined his fingers with hers and squeezed. It was not unpleasant to feel the cool of his calloused skin against hers. "If you don't, Nathan won't either."

She looked down at their hands and blushed. "It's just…weird," she complained. She'd never really held hands with anyone since the last time she'd held hands with one Danny Fenton. Whose dead body was now back to haunt her.

She suddenly worried that could feel her heart pounding through her hand.

He looked at her, his blue eyes deceptively innocent. "Then perhaps we should practice being believable," he asked. "Since your long-lost lover has come to visit you, I would think you'd be ecstatic enough to kiss him. And yet you look quite displeased."

She set her jaw. He was toying with her and probably trying to manipulate her into giving him some action as compensation for his time. She snatched her hand back and continued walking forward without him. If he wanted to play like they were really dating, then… "No. I'm still mad at you for beating up someone and then not telling me you were in Amity Park _days_ ago. So if you want me to act 'ecstatic' for you, you'll have to work for it."

He blinked, surprised. He'd been expecting her to flat out deny him any chance. She'd just insinuated otherwise.

Valerie looked back at him with a glint in her eye.

Then a great attraction overcame him as he realized that Valerie had just begun to truly play along. "Oh," he said. He smiled something devilish as he began to catch up with her, walking alongside her. "So if you're mad at me now, then this just means we'll have makeup sex later, right?"

"No."

"I bet 'D' and Val would have great makeup sex," Dan said, as if fascinated by the thought, scratching his chin. "Especially if they fought often, as we so often do."

She blushed angrily, looking around to make sure no one was listening or wandering around where they could hear. "Stop," she said.

"What?" he said innocently. "I'm just trying to get our stories straight. I'm _analyzing_ our relationship."

"We don't have a real relationship to analyze," she snapped.

"Oh, but we did," he said. "We've just been estranged for a while. Conflicting life interests, apocalypse, you know." He grabbed onto her hand, intertwining his bare fingers with hers again. "But 'D' realized he couldn't live without you. And he got very, very jealous when he learned that other men were trying to steal his girl."

"I'm not yours."

"D has to win you back, of course. You'd broken up with him, per the aforementioned life conflicts."

"You are referring to yourself in third person, and it's weird."

"…My temporary identity of 'bad boy with good heart' is in conflict with my worldview." He sniffed. "This is how I keep my sanity in such trying times."

"You don't have sanity," she deadpanned. "Ever."

Suddenly, he spun her around against one of the pillars and pressed himself against her. "No," he admitted, warm breath mixing with hers. She'd frozen, eyes wide at his actions, but she did not flinch away. He leaned against her, his blue eyes glinting dark as he smiled. "And I love that you know me so well."

She breathed shakily, trying to fight off the conflicting instincts of kicking him off and pulling him closer. She whispered, voice wavering, "The hell are you _doing_?" She looked to the side, blushing with great paranoia that someone would see them like this. Anybody could walk down the hall at any time.

He gently turned her chin so that she faced him. "I think I'd rather like to kiss you," he whispered back. Scant inches were between them. "Practice, you know. For when we really do have an audience."

Valerie swallowed hard. Her heart was racing even harder now. Dan's hand was resting on the swell of her hips, while the other still gently caressed her jaw line. A large part of her wanted him to kiss her, and the feeling was beginning to spread down her belly. "I, uh…I—"

Suddenly, a new voice interrupted them.

"…Valerie?"

At the sound of another voice, she startled away, pushing Dan back. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed. "Uh—!"

Her father stood towards the end of the hall, arms crossed.

Although Damon Gray wore an eye-patch, his one good eye was narrowed in a mix between good-natured humor and fatherly concern. He looked to Dan and called, "Don't get too fresh with my daughter now, or we're gonna have a much different talk, ya hear?"

For a second, Dan looked greatly irritated by the intrusion. His blue eyes nearly bled red. But then he turned around to face the father, and he jauntily saluted. "I look forward to that talk, then." His smile suggested he would very much get fresh with Valerie. Perhaps in ways that would redefine "fresh" for future generations.

Damon grunted in displeasure, but then some kind of old humor won out over his concern. He knew his daughter could handle herself. "Well, I was about to offer you a tour of the place. But I see that Valerie is already acquainting you quite well with the main entrance." He gave her a pointed look that made her blush harder. "Dear, why don't you show him around like an actual guest and save the romance for behind closed doors?"

Valerie stood there, gaping. "Uh, y-yeah. Sure."

The father eyed Dan once more, as if to measure his intentions, and then began to walk back to his office, feeling awkwardly too old to be so protective over his now-grown daughter. Eventually, his door opened and closed, and they were again the only two people in the main hall.

They stood there in silence, both still surprised at being caught in the middle of an almost-intimate moment.

"…I think he likes me," Dan said with a solid nod.

Valerie jabbed him with her elbow. "He shouldn't," she said, voice still strangled.

"Don't worry," he readjusted his leather jacket with a signature smile. "I've already established trust with him, so I'm sure his concern is minimal at best. When we spoke previously, your father seemed quite ecstatic that I'd punched Nathan in the face."

Valerie face faulted. "He's not supposed to approve of that kind of stuff," she grumbled under her breath. Damn her father. Now Dan would likely attach to such approval.

As suspected, he did. "And what a delightful thing the human justice system is," he said. "If your father agreed with me on more things, perhaps I would not hate him so."

"Even if my dad's overprotective of me, which clouds his judgment," Valerie said, voice flat, "you know he doesn't approve of how Phantom killed half the world population and _continues to terrorize_ everyone's who left."

"A truly unfortunate situation," he sniffed, although no concern wavered in his voice. "If only the rest of the world were dead; they would no longer feel terrorized."

Valerie glared at him. "You're horrible."

"But I should like to keep you alive," he corrected himself. "Everyone else can die. Except you."

Something about that made her want to laugh or cry.

* * *

As Valerie led Dan through the main hall and to the various commonplace areas, they continued to banter back and forth in their usual, married-couple way. Some part of Valerie felt suffocated by the attraction she couldn't shake since he had leaned her against the pillar and nearly kissed her. It made her more grouchy and snappish, especially when he reminded her that he was in fact an arch villain out to destroy the world.

Dan seemed to enjoy her discomfort.

"Why don't you show me behind the scenes?" he complained. "You know, where you hide all the experimental technology that you hope to stop me with?"

Valerie rolled her eyes. Then she smiled a painfully false smile. "Oh no. It appears that 'D' doesn't have the security clearance necessary for that kind of tour."

"And how do I get that security clearance?"

"You don't."

"I could probably forge something."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," she promised, voice hard. "And even if you tried to forge something, I could reset those codes without turning off the Shield."

Check and mate. He frowned a bit, realizing he'd lost a small battle. But then his eyes glinted with a new idea. "Then how about a different kind of tour? Can I get a tour of Valerie Gray?"

"…A tour _of_ …?"

"As she's going to be a large part of my life during my stay, I'd like to understand her more." He smiled lazily. "And I'd like to get more acquainted with all of her high-security areas so that I can…better navigate under the circumstances."

She flushed and turned away to hide the red of her face. "You just want to get in my pants so you can take over the resistance."

"Did I _say_ anything about pants? Tsk, tsk, Valerie. You dirty mind, you."

She spun on her heels and poked him in the chest, face flaming with a blush that would not end. "That's entrapment, and you know it. What am I supposed to think when you talk about 'high-security areas'?!"

He eyed her. Then he smiled, his eyes falling down to her chest.

Her eye twitched. She shoved him away, and he laughed, the baritone sound a pleasant ring against the walls. For the first time ever, the sound was completely genuine and without darker motive.

He leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows. "Does anyone else have access to these…high-security areas?" he asked seriously.

"No."

"Has anyone previously had access?"

She hid her face in her hands and groaned. "Oh my god. I think I preferred you more when you were trying to kill me."

"So, that's a no, then." He looked at her with great desire, realizing that this woman before him was a virgin. "Oh, Valerie. You have no idea how sexy that is."

A strangled noise, like something between a huff and a scream, escaped her throat. She felt she would melt out of embarrassment. The last thing she wanted was to give Dan one more reason to tease her, especially because her heart was already pounding out of her chest. "Seriously, stop. Or I will shoot you point-blank, and it'll ruin everything."

He smiled. A worked-up Valerie was fun to mess with, and a blushing Valerie was even better. "Well," he said, scratching his chin, "I guess this means 'D' and Val have never had makeup sex, then. That's something we'll have to put on our list of things to practice. You know," he tilted his head, "once D gets that high-security clearance."

She gaped at him. She'd blushed harder in ten minutes than she had her entire life. Surely, this was a new kind of warfare that he was experimenting with on her. She clenched her fists, her nose scrunching in disgust to hide the traitorous sparks of her mind that were actively creating an image of him and her on a bed and his hands—

"—You're not gonna get that kind of clearance," she promised him, eyeing him and trying desperately to remember, _That face and body is a lie. His flirting is a lie. Dan wants to kill everyone. He doesn't really want you._ _He just wants to use you._

_Now I'm talking to myself. Dammit._

He leaned in merrily. "Then it looks like I'll just have to work for that clearance and—"

"—Ooh, is this the secret _boyfriend_?!" called out a heavily accented, nasal voice that was rapidly growing louder, along with footsteps.

For a second, they both froze.

Dan's face faulted. He was quickly learning that privacy did not exist within the resistance, which was excessively irritating. He turned around to see a tall Latino woman with black hair and blue eyes. Although she wore similar military fatigues as Valerie, she'd pulled up the arms and stomach to show off her skin, as per usual.

The infamous Paulina Sanchez.

Valerie looked terrified, as if she'd been caught doing something horrific. "Uh, h-hey, Paulina."

"You know," the woman called out, her voice loud and excited, "your boy toy kinda looks like that Fenton kid before he died!" She eyed him up and down as she walked up to them, then smiled sweetly. "But much better. And way less nerdy."

Dan sniffed, disinterested and irritated by the reference to his past. "He was my cousin," he lied smoothly.

Paulina gazed at him in awe. "How could that family ever have someone like you in their genes?"

"…We didn't talk much."

The Latino woman turned to Valerie and whined, "Chika, why did you not tell me he was so _caliente_? Is that why you didn't talk about him?!"

Dan's face twisted with legitimate confusion. "… _Caliente_?" he whispered to Valerie out of the side of his mouth.

"It means hot," Valerie deadpanned, arms crossed.

"Oh." Dan suddenly looked pleased. "Well, then. I approve of this title." He smiled back at Paulina disarmingly. "I'm D."

"Just D?"

His pleased expression faltered at the thought of having to repeat himself to educate the bimbo. "…Just D."

Paulina gave him another look. "Kinda makes sense with the leather jacket and all," she said slowly. "You've got that dangerous streak to you."

Something about that upticked Dan's lips. "I do enjoy danger."

"What kind of danger?"

"Usually the life-threatening kind."

The woman smiled. "Ooh, I felt the bad boy vibes off that."

Valerie narrowed her eyes at the way that Paulina was circling Dan with a predatory look. "Are you done looking at him like a piece of meat?" she asked, voice carrying an unnatural edge. "Seriously, we got better things to do."

The other woman rolled her eyes playfully and whined, " _Chica_ , I'm checking out the merchandise. I have to make sure he's up to standard for you."

He looked over at Valerie and realized that her face was twisted with something he had not seen on her before. It was a dark look, pointed at Paulina moreso than himself. Was it jealousy?

His blue eyes glinted. Oh. He could have fun with this.

And so he turned to Paulina, suddenly giving her more attention. He flexed his bicep, his steel muscles bulging against the leather sleeve of his jacket to strain the seams. "Is this up to standard?"

Valerie's eye twitched.

"Ooh, you're so strong _and_ handsome!" Paulina cooed, her lithe fingers reaching out to touch his arm. "I bet you could give Valerie a good time." Then she pulled away, wagging a finger at him and raising her eyebrow. "But I know you bad boy types. Do you treat her right? Make her feel loved? As her friend, I'm obligated to interrogate you and ask you about your history."

Dan pouted, making his hardened lines more sultry and vulnerable. Paulina nearly melted at the sight despite her attempts to fight it. "She hardly treats _me_ right," he complained. "Ten years ago, she broke up with me so she could fight Phantom without ties. But we've…stayed in contact. So I travel halfway across the country to see her again and patch things up for real, and she's still angry with me because I had a run-in with her old stalker. I can't win no matter what I do."

Paulina then turned to Valerie and asked in shock, "How can you possibly be angry with this hot mess? Especially since you broke his heart but he still braved the Wastelands and stood up for you!" Her whine was high-pitched enough to make even Dan wince.

Valerie crossed her arms and said, voice dry, "I'm mad cause he thinks he can just waltz right back into my life and _beat people_ up in my name."

Her heart felt uneasy. Dan's lie of a past was based off of a lot of truth. She had originally chosen to break up with Danny Fenton to keep him safe. Apparently, from himself. Which hadn't worked.

Surely, he was making some kind of underhanded point with all of this.

Dan simply shrugged. "At least I didn't kill your stalker," he said. And then he rummaged through his pocket to find his pack of cigarettes and a lighter. If he waited too long, his ghost temperature would begin to leech out at more noticeable chills. He tilted the cigarette a bit between his lips, smiling wide at Valerie. "Just trying to watch out for you. If you won't stand up for yourself, then I will."

That did it. Paulina suddenly had stars in her eyes. "I officially approve of you. You have no idea how much of a problem Nathan's been. Oh my god, there was one time that we were washing up at night and—"

"—He does _not_ need to know that," Valerie hissed, stepping forward to pull Dan away from Paulina.

"I believe I _should_ know," he said, offended and lightly trying to pull his elbow from her vice-like grip. "Nathan was already lurking outside of her window when I found him. I'm quite interested to know what else he's done."

Something odd dropped into Valerie's stomach. _My window?_ She hadn't known that. "…It doesn't matter," she said quickly, pulling him along.

"I believe it does," he said, voice growing hard. He began to resist her, for he realized he could learn quite a bit about Valerie's life through this bimbo who couldn't keep a secret if she tried. Perhaps that's why Valerie was so intent on dragging him away. "Paulina, right? Tell me more about what Nathan's done."

Valerie began to drag him harder. "Seriously," she said, voice raising between a complaint and a beg. "Drop it."

Her sudden noncompliance made him irritated. He could not afford to miss out on gaining information, and so his eyes flashed red quickly before settling back to baby blue.

Within seconds, chaos broke loose.

Valerie's Phantom Tracker, which manifested as a slim bracelet on her wrist when not in battle suit mode, began to beep. Valerie blinked in surprise and then looked down, instinctively pushing the button. A small, LED screen expanded across her arm. The blinking coordinates and ectoplasmic levels were suggesting that _Dan Phantom_ had tripped the perimeter sensors of a distant town, known as Jasper.

She looked up and gasped. "That's impossible. But you're—!"

"—Perfectly capable of behaving myself while you run off to save the world." He smiled something sneaky. "With our past, I know better than to keep you from your favorite hobby."

Valerie gaped at him. How was he doing that when he was standing right in front of her?

The beeping began to grow louder, picking up significant ectoplasmic outputs. She looked down and cursed. Whatever was happening, Dan was actively attacking Jasper city—a town without as strong of a shield to protect it.

"I gotta go and stop this," she said hurriedly, voice rough with frustration. With a groan, she called forth her battle suit. The familiar, sleek panels stretched over her skin and curves, locking into place. She gave Dan a pointed look. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"I'm never stupid, Valerie."

"And you." She pointed at Paulina. "Don't tell him anything."

Her friend rolled her eyes lovingly. "I won't."

"Good." And then she jumped into the air, and the nanoparticles of her jet sled solidified beneath her. The whine of the circuits echoed into the air as she stormed off in a metallic whirl, heading for the main exit out. The exhaust from the jet sled ruffled their clothes.

And the hall fell silent.

The instant Valerie was gone from sight, Dan turned to Paulina. "So. Tell me everything I should know about this Nathan kid."

She smiled sweetly, enraptured by the concept of this dark knight sweeping in to save his old flame. Valerie desperately needed someone who could keep an eye out for her. "Anything you want, sweetheart. Just don't let Valerie know that I told you."

"Deal."

* * *

_Dammit. Dammit. Dammit._

Several other curse words and impressive strands of insults ran through Valerie's head as she grumbled. "How the hell does he do this?" She was racing over the Wastelands at top speed, her body curled in on itself to streamline through the winds. "He's such a…freakin' pain in the ass!"

In truth, most of her anger came not from having to fight, but from the fact that this was all a distraction so Dan could learn her secrets and everything she hadn't told him about Nathan's, er, obsession. And then there was the whole "showing off in front of Paulina" thing that made her blood boil. And the way he'd tried to gain the sympathy vote by making her seem like a total bitch—!

"That jerk," she seethed. At this rate, all of her friends would take his side. But she supposed she couldn't think too hard on it. Currently, Dan Phantom was complicating her life in a more serious way.

As she sped over the land, she realized that Jasper city's shield was down, and above the chaos was one Dan Phantom, casually blasting at the skyscrapers.

"Of course," she groaned, eyes wide. "Of course he'd try killing people today."

The city of Jasper, a poorer town still perfecting its shield, was often a victim of Phantom's rampages. He usually attacked it out of boredom or some need to fulfill a bloodlust, for Jasper city had no ghost hunters half as competent as Valerie Gray. They were therefore something of a protectorate of the stronger Amity Park, which meant Valerie had a responsibility to protect them too.

The image that was Dan Phantom in full ghost glory looked up as she appeared on the horizon. "Did you forget I can clone myself?" he called to her in amusement.

Valerie blushed at her oversight as she leveled a blaster at him. "That doesn't make me feel any better with leaving you alone back at the resistance. "

"Aww, worried I'll get lonely?"

"No—just worried you'll kill someone."

"Well, we all have our appearances to keep up," he said, waving a hand around them. Below him, crowds of humans screamed and cried at their decimated shield, and they flailed about for safety within the rubble and below-ground transport pods. "You should know that restraining my homicidal tendencies for several hours on end and working to gain the approval of your friends has made me feel quite constricted." His palms began to glow, as did his eyes. "I could use a little exercise."

"By exercise, do you mean me kicking your ass? Cause trust me, buddy: you've been asking for it all morning."

He smiled too wide and tilted his head. "And how can I further elicit your anger? Shall I try to increase my death count—or just generally soak in the fear of my victims? I'd like your opinion, so that I may infuriate you more."

Her blaster began to whine up. "I don't get this. How the hell can you float there and flirt with me and have a clone _gossiping_ with my friend—I'm still pissed about that, by the way—and yet you still shoot people up like they're nothing, just to create a distraction?"

"Our personal situation is irrelevant," he said casually. "You're not like the rest of humanity." He waved below at the now-silent streets of Jasper. "These are insects to be eradicated. Pawns in our chess game. Expendable resources."

She gave him a hard look. His own sickening worldview was one reason why she had never allowed herself to feel much for him. "Those people have value too. Maybe they can't play your stupid chess games, but each one has someone who cares about them. Each person is irreplaceable."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Not the preaching again—we covered this years ago. You can't change me."

She nearly groaned at his stubbornness. Maybe it was time to switch up tactics and throw a hard ball of her own. "I know. But you infiltrated my town just so you could stop Nathan from stalking me. You said you didn't want me to die before my time." She stared at him, eyes hard. "That means you've put some kind of value on my life, right?"

He narrowed his gaze and then nodded slowly. It suddenly fell silent between them with an unspeakable pressure.

He realized for the first time that perhaps his desire to rid Valerie of Nathan had exposed something about himself. Which was a dangerous and terrifying thought.

"So say I died tomorrow." She kept her blaster raised at him. "Say I broke my own neck flying on my jet sled. What would you do?"

His face twitched. He looked excessively uncomfortable with her questions, and he began to back away. "You will not die on your jet sled," he said, voice slow and strangled. "Your battle suit is damn near indestructible and designed to protect you."

He was missing the point. And so she did something entirely unprecedented in battle. With a hard swallow, she lowered her blaster and re-holstered it on her thigh. Then she recalled her battle suit. The panels swept back, and her visor disintegrated back into nanoparticles in her bloodstream until she stood on her jet sled in her plain, military outfit. She crossed her arms.

Dan's eyes tightened. Suddenly, he was looking at her vulnerable body, and the way she was tilted precariously on her jet sled. They were floating high above even the skyscrapers. If she fell, she'd die.

"You said it yourself," she said. "I'm gonna die someday. So what would you do if I died right now?"

Her question brought forth strange emotions. Dan felt constricted by them. His mind was conjuring images of a world without Valerie Gray, and it felt aimless. His own power core flickered in hesitance at the thought.

Feeling adventurous and a bit wicked, Valerie forced one of her feet to slip from her jet sled. The jet sled swung hard at the imbalance, and with a half-real yelp, she fell back in the open air—the world spinning in angles and lights, her ringlet hair flying up in rays, her life tumbling towards the earth—

In a blur, he stormed for her, grabbing onto her body and pulling her close to him, cradling her in a tight hold as he swooped them both up from a free fall. Her fingers tightened on his jumpsuit out of surprise. For a few seconds, he said nothing. Only the strange possessiveness with which he held her close spoke between them that _he would not let her fall_. "Dammit," he hissed, red eyes wide with barely constrained fear. "Are you truly that clumsy without your suit?"

She looked up at him, realizing that they had again transgressed far beyond the boundaries of ordinary enemies. Here she was in the arms of the true visage of Dan Phantom and all of his demonic coloring. And yet, it felt good. His strong arms supported her as if she weighed nothing. Despite the darkness within him, she felt entirely safe.

"Check and mate," she said triumphantly. She patted his face in amusement and mock sympathy. His skin was cold and smooth, his flickering hair brushing against her knuckles. "I coulda called my jet sled back to me, you know."

Green stormed across his face in a strange blush; his face twitched in irritation and realization that Valerie had in fact played him. He suddenly released her, and she yelped out a laugh as she fell through the air once more. The smooth panels of her battle suit fanned over her body, and her jet sled flew toward her. With a graceful swoop, it aligned itself to her, and she twisted so she landed perfectly on the foot locks, straightening up to eye Dan. Then she put a hand on her hips and called to him, "Aww, you tried to rescue a _human_."

"Not funny," he hissed, face still twisted with conflicting emotions. "Don't ever do that again."

"Why not?" she challenged.

"Your death does not entertain me. Keep that damn suit on next time you think about free falling. As a matter of fact, keep that suit on all the time. Then you can't die."

A sad amusement twitched up her lips. "And yet you're entertained by killing other people. You really make no sense to me."

"I've told you before that you're _different_ ," he huffed. "I've killed billions and maimed more. I destroyed this world's cities and laughed, and I regret nothing. Do not confuse my illusion of a human skin as a sign of humanity."

She said, tilting her head a bit. "Oh, I know you're screwed up. But wanting to be with people who understand you? That's kind of…human."

He blinked. He looked almost uncomfortable with the thought—that some part of him really was still human. That his defining need for Valerie was not some evolved behavior but something quite primal or instinctive.

Then suddenly, something else distracted him. His face twisted with amusement and disgust, his eyes unfocusing into the distance. "Speaking of human, your friends have an excessive interest in your sex life," he declared suddenly, surprised at the turn of conversation between his clone he'd left back at the resistance. A wicked smirk overcame him. "They're concerned that you need a little…loosening up. They'd like to know in what ways I please you at night. I'm afraid such conversation just entirely derailed my attention from your miserable attempts to reform me."

She blinked. "…What?" She clenched her fists, feeling her heart begin to pound again in sudden uncertainty. "The hell are they telling you? What are you telling them back?!"

"Well," he said slyly, "you admitted you're a virgin, so it would not do to lie. That could make things too awkward for you to fake."

She blushed as she face-palmed. "Oh my god," she whined. "Seriously, _why_ are you even talking about this with them?!"

"And now they're telling me that _I_ need loosening up," he said, voice turning with something between a laugh and an uneasy strain. "How—"

His mouth suddenly clicked shut. Then his eyes widened, and a strange, green-tinged blush dusted across his horrified face. "Oh."

Valerie stilled on her jet sled, a hand on her hip. She asked dryly, "What now? Finally found a conversation boundary not worth crossing?"

"…My clone just got man-handled by a group of women." His blush deepened, and his face twitched in disgust and confusion. His fingers clenched tight into a fist as his stomach muscles flinched at the ghost feeling of hands upon his copy. "Those insects are _touching_ me."

Valerie's eyes widened. An image of girls pulling at Dan's hair and trying to tear off his clothes came to mind. And she almost laughed, until she realized the psychotic darkness upon Dan's face as his horror gave way to fury. She pointed at him. "Stop," she demanded sharply, as if she were scolding a dog. "I know what you're thinking, and don't do it. I'll get you away from that, okay? Just give me like, 15 seconds."

"10," he bargained, red eyes glowing orange in his anger. "Now. Or I will kill them all."

Valerie spun around and shot towards Amity Park to save Dan from his own conspiracy. At least she knew he would likely be too frozen to get one last shot in at the city of Jasper. "You better thank me later!" she yelled back.

The clone nearly snarled. "And you better thank _me_."

* * *

In short order, Valerie found herself storming through the front entrance of the resistance. She flew low on her jet sled, body curled to navigate through the tighter passages. She could hear the noise of laughs and giggles as she neared closer. The image of women pulling on Dan's clothes again came to mind, and she nearly smirked—she was gonna have to _save_ Dan from a group of women!—but then she rounded the corner. A gaggle of women had surrounded the newcomer, some in general curiosity and others with far more forward intentions. He was backed against a wall, one woman's hands in his hair, another poking his stomach to feel his abs, while yet another hung off of his arm, stroking his biceps. Paulina stood off to the side, giggling.

Dan looked truly petrified. Only the twitch of his hand alerted Valerie that he was pissed off and seconds away from killing them all.

Somehow, the image was less entertaining than she thought it'd be. As a matter of fact, something cold steeled in her against the women blatantly flirting.

"You know, if Valerie's still angry with you, you can stay in my place," one of the women said dreamily, leaning against him. "I got a bed. That we could share."

At that, a strange and jealous rage overwhelmed Valerie as she jumped down from her jet sled. "What the hell's going on in here?" she called out, announcing her presence with her usual tact.

Dan looked up. "Valerie," he breathed, his baritone voice straining with relief and barely suppressed frustration. _Oh, thank god._ "Get me out of here."

"But sweetheart," one woman pleaded, grabbing harder onto his arm, "Valerie doesn't need you. Come on, forget about her!"

Valerie glared at the woman. Dan was hers, dammit. Whether she was angry with him or not, whether she needed him or not, he was always hers. She _owned_ his afterlife. And if no one understand that, then she'd have to make them understand.

A small blip of uncertainty struck her, but then she straightened her spine with false confidence. _I know what would end this for good._ She stomped up to him in a great huff, shoving aside a few of the women who'd infringed on her space. In a blur, she grabbed Dan's jacket's collar and pulled him down, planting a solid kiss upon his lips in front of everyone.

Dan's blue eyes flew open in surprise. His shock froze him, his mind blanking at the feeling of Valerie's lips against his—the warmth of her body seeping into his clothes and skin—the _softness_ —

Then Valerie pulled away, releasing his collar. Her breath was halted, the lines of her body vulnerable with attraction and possessiveness for him. It was part-manipulation and part-truth, as most things were for her. "I missed you," she whispered, batting her eyelashes. There was no way she'd let anyone leave without them knowing that she'd staked a claim on this man.

For a second, Dan remained truly, inexplicably speechless. His jaw had dropped, his face had tinged red in a blush. Valerie Gray had just kissed him. He knew what she tasted like now. She'd kissed him of her own free will. And nothing was sexier than how she'd just completely dominated him and usurped control.

His eyes dilated with desire, and he blurred forward, grabbing her hips and kissing her back hard.

A muffled note of surprise escaped her as she grabbed onto his arms for stability. The raw desire that bled off of him overwhelmed her. The exotic awareness that she was doing this in front of an audience made the fire she felt all the more enticing.

And before she knew it, he pulled away. "I missed you too," he whispered, eyes strained with hunger.

A very real attraction—that they could affect each other so much—spurned them both forward. Without thinking, Valerie wove her armored fingers into his black hair, pressing him closer to her instinctively, demanding to feel him kiss her again. He willingly submitted, humming in pleasure as his lips met hers.

So. This was the fire they'd suppressed for so long. That it'd taken so long to feel it made it all the sweeter.

A few men whistled as they walked by the crowd. A lot of women sighed. Some of them grumbled. It was hard to deny the stake that Valerie had just placed on the mysterious D. And, uh, was still placing.

And that he was placing on her…

They all began to quietly inch away, slowly growing more and more uncomfortable with the ongoing display of attraction. Eventually, even the women who had tried to move in on Dan blushed and left. Paulina sighed, as if greatly jealous, but then a twitch of sneaky humor rose her full lips up as she walked away too.

No secret boyfriend, _indeed_.

* * *

The instant everyone had left, the two reluctantly pulled away. Then Dan set his forehead against hers. "Hmm," he whispered, lips inches away from hers and stretching into a satisfied, lazy smile. "We might have our disagreements, but…" His large hand stroked down the swell of her hip, and the metal of her battle suit was hot with the heat from her body. "This is nice."

She panted shakily, her breath mixing with his. "Yeah." Her entire body tingled with heightened nerves and the vibration of his baritone voice. She could feel every line of his body against her. She was even beginning to think she wanted his hand on her thigh to move to other places, and she swallowed hard. It was probably a good thing she hadn't retracted her battle suit. "…What just happened?"

He hummed, his lazy smile growing with delight. "I used to call it a fake-out make-out. It's something that makes your continued existence far more desirable."

Valerie huffed, licking her bruised lips with a dazed awe. _Holy shit. Forget that he wants world domination. I'll make him want something else._ "…Aren't we a little old for fake-out stuff?"

He paused. "Why yes. Yes, I believe we are."

Then Dan kissed her deeper, and his lips stretched against hers instinctively. Valerie's fingers dug harder into him. He recalled the power of his clone, who returned to him instantly, for he wanted all of him to feel and taste Valerie.

And for the first time, thoughts of his past, of his bloodlust, of his death count, disappeared.

A couple of people still whistled as they walked by the two. But in such close quarters at the resistance, and with the end of the world always around the corner, such sights of intimacy were fairly mundane. And so they kept walking and thought little more about it beyond the simple surprise that Valerie Gray really did have a not-so-secret lover.

* * *

From down the hall, Nathan lurked, eyes wide at the sight of Valerie sweetly kissing her boyfriend. The man held her in an intimate hold, pulling away only to kiss her again in a mindless afterthought. The two of them were whispering between kisses, the man's face splitting with mischievous grins, a similar smile gracing Valerie's face as she wrapped her arms around his neck. And though great fear bloomed in Nathan's heart at the sight of the man who had beaten him, he stared at Valerie. Longing overwhelmed him—to feel her lips upon hers, her fingers tightening into the locks of his hair and the clothes on his back. Just like that.

He tried to listen in on their whispers and caught only bits and pieces.

"— _should get a room or something before_ —" the man teased.

Valerie's whisper was full with just as much teasing. " _—like that, wouldn't_ —?"

The man moaned. "— _you heartless_ —"

In reply, she patted his face with a false sweetness. "— _gotta work for_ — _retribution_ _since you're still such an evil_ —"

After a moment, the man reluctantly pulled away from her. Her armored fingers had messed up his ponytail and loosened several more strands, and so he tried to push his hair back again with no success.

Then the man began to turn around, and Valerie fought back a mischievous smirk, reaching for the loose ponytail holder in his hair.

Nathan inhaled shakily as he quickly scuttled down the hall before either could see him, heart pounding. His fingers tightened around his clipboard and the various papers he carried with him.

_ValerieValerieValerie—_

Oh, the pain she caused him! He couldn't take it anymore. Watching her with another man made him steam in panic and his heart scrunch. It was one thing for the mysterious boyfriend to say he was a boyfriend—it was another thing entirely to see Valerie willingly kiss that man.

Surely, she knew that she was hurting him. Because this was all some kind of feminine ploy to make him jealous. And maybe all he had to do was prove somehow that he was more worthy than this boyfriend called "D." Because D was an arrogant and violent bastard. And Valerie deserved better. And she knew it.

Or maybe Valerie was truly deceived by this man. And she needed someone to save her from D and from herself.

Nathan bit his lip, mind racing.


	3. Chapter 3

Now that Valerie had properly asserted herself as D's girlfriend, and since D had brushed aside all flirtations from anyone but Valerie, the resistance decided Valerie and D were officially a couple. No one bothered the mysterious and handsome D again but for a few women who still stared longingly at him from a distance.

The two of them were now walking deeper into the resistance building. Dan huffed, nose scrunched, as he tried to retie his hair with the band that Valerie had so mischievously pulled out. "Dammit," he grumbled. "I had this perfect before you ruined it."

Valerie had retracted her battle suit, but her jaw set as she quirked a sculpted brow at him. Two could play at this kind of fight. "You weren't complaining before."

He finally managed to tie his black hair back, but some of the strands were still loose, and he face-faulted when they fell right back down his cheeks. Damn his non-floating hair and this whole fake-human skin. "We were in the middle of an important discussion that distracted me," he said, voice full of strange patterns. He tilted his eyes towards her, every line of his body still strained with desire. "A discussion I should like to have again."

She perhaps walked faster, her face blushing. "You wish." Even though her first kiss had mostly been for show to ward off other women and stake claim on Dan, it'd turned into something far beyond her control. The desire behind that kiss had been as real as the race of her heartbeat and the gasp of his breath against her lips. A large part of her wanted it to happen again, but the important thing was to not let Phantom know just how much she wanted him back, because that was dangerous. Whoever held the least emotional attachment would have the most power in this new chess game. Valerie wanted to make sure she kept the power.

"Now why would you not want a repeat discussion?" he demanded darkly. His deep baritone voice was still husked in a way that made Valerie's spine tingle. "You can't forget a kiss like that."

"I can't forget a _lot_ of things," she retorted, raising her chin. "Like the fact that you're a psychotic maniac out to take over the world."

"…So?"

"So," she huffed, "that kinda ruins the mood when I think about it."

"You weren't thinking about my death count earlier," he said, frustration growing. A vindictive tone bled into his voice. "You were weak-kneed for me. You were practically begging for me to take you, right in the middle of the hallway."

The concept that Dan Phantom was a guilty pleasure left Valerie feeling caged. She said harshly, "And you weren't needy too? We both liked it, and you know it. Doesn't make it right."

He laughed. "'Doesn't make it right?' You know better than to waste your time preaching to me about ethics." But he had full confidence that he could wear Valerie down into kissing him again and forgetting about his day job as the Ravager of Worlds. Which, to be honest, he kind of forgot about as well while kissing her.

He wove his fingers into hers, grabbing tight. "Now tell me where we're going."

She tentatively tightened her fingers around his cool hand. This was all part of their image as a couple to deter Nathan. Right. "I'm grabbing some brunch cause _somebody_ made me skip breakfast and then burn off my reserves. I'm freakin' starving."

With all of the panic around Jasper city, and with Dan's curious invasion of her life, she'd hardly realized that hours had passed since she'd first awoken.

"Oh, how unfortunate that you always have to fight that devilish Phantom character," Dan mocked. "My heart bleeds. Perhaps if you simply bowed before his might and became his slave, you would not miss important feeding times."

Valerie's eye twitched. "Excuse me?"

"Enslavement is considered such a bad thing in the eye of modern human morality," he said. "But really, I think you'd enjoy it—"

She indiscreetly wrenched his hand hard, and he flinched at the sudden wave of pain that accompanied a _pop_ in his bones. A small gasp escaped his lips as he snatched his hand away, stopping dead in his tracks. He stared at her in surprise, and his blue eyes nearly bled red.

Perhaps she'd only snapped a tendon, but it hurt. "What was that for?" he hissed.

Valerie just smiled sweetly at him as she cooed, "Aww, did I accidentally bump your sprained wrist? Baby, you should _be more careful_ when you choose your battles." She raised his rapidly healing wrist to her lips and kissed it, eyes flashing in warning. "You might get hurt."

He looked truly surprised that Valerie would take such advantage over his fallen guard. His face twitched between great irritation and amusement at her hidden message. "You bitch. After all that I do for you, and this is how you repay me?"

She dropped his hand, which had already healed the snapped tendon. "I don't bow before anyone for any reason, so get that idea out of your head right now," she said, voice hard. "And don't pretend to be a saint on my behalf. Because you're not."

He rubbed his wrist, eyeing her with a bit more caution. Only Valerie would dare to risk his fury in such a way. A dark, pleased smile stretched across his face. "Is this you playing hard to get?" he asked suddenly.

Valerie rolled her eyes. "No, I'm not playing 'hard to get.' This is a friendly warning that if you ever try to enslave me or tell me what to do, I will destroy you. Good kiss or not."

The disguised ghost looked disgruntled, but he supposed it was fair. He could not expect Valerie to completely give way beneath his desires just yet. "Perhaps I may not get you to bow as my slave, but…" His blue eyes grew dark, a teasing smile on his lips. "I can think of other enjoyable positions to bend you into."

She huffed, eyes wide. "What the—? Jesus, does everything have to be a sex pun to you?!"

"You know you love it." He waved before her. "My dear Watson, puns are considered the highest form of intelligent humor. Get with the program."

"There is nothing intelligent about you. And stop calling me Watson. That's, like, the fifteenth time this month."

He pouted, eyes flashing with displeasure. "But I _need_ a Watson to my Sherlock. In case you haven't noticed, you're the only one who actively attempts to unravel my genius schemes."

The conversation began to irritate her, as Valerie despised Phantom's interest in literary references and classic books. It meant she had to read them too to keep up with him. She complained, "That takes the metaphor out of context. We're not partners, and you're not a good-guy crack addict solving crimes to help people."

"We _could_ be partners, you know."

"No, we couldn't."

He huffed. "You just said you refused to bow to me as a slave. I offer you a more appropriate title as an equal partner learning under my genius, and you spurn that too." He leaned towards her personal space, narrowing his eyes. "In case you forgot, we _did_ swap spit in a quite pleasing fashion. That constitutes as a sort of partnership."

She blushed at the reminder, and her tongue stalled in her mouth with no further retort. Then she stomped forward in a wordless huff, her entire body tingling at the memory of the kisses they had shared.

It _had_ certainly been a mutual experience.

Dan hid an evil smirk as he watched her concede defeat. His favorite pastime, even above killing people, was mentally trumping Valerie. He trailed after her, confidence oozing off the lines of his shoulders. "What," he called out, "no comeback?"

She turned the corner and said over her shoulder, "I'll think of a comeback after I get some brain food. Give me three minutes."

The hall opened up into a large atrium with several food lines, food workers, and the smell of breakfast. The cooks had prepared army-quantities of eggs and bacon, and they looked to be dishing up some kind of soup as well. Considering the pact Dan had made with Valerie, she imagined that he could stand by for a short time without her.

She halfway expected him to laugh at her human weakness—that she did not have unlimited energy and that she had to eat food to survive and think. But Dan appeared distantly interested by the food that he saw. Only a few seconds after she turned away, he began to follow after her, not unlike a dog, curiously sniffing the air.

The Red Huntress grabbed a lunch tray as she approached the cook line, but a flash of something dark to her side made her look up and flinch in surprise. Dan was suddenly standing right next to her, pondering at the lunch tray stack.

"…What are you doing?" she asked bluntly, eyes wide.

He grabbed the tray he believed to be the least contaminated. "I'm joining you for brunch."

She said, confused, "But you don't even _eat_ food."

"Appearances, Valerie," he chided lightly, bumping against her as he set his lunch tray beside hers to stand in line. "I must maintain my illusion."

The feeling of his arm brushing against hers was enough to make her heart beat faster, and she looked away, caught between feeling awkward and bumping him back out of her natural instincts to retaliate. If he stood by her side the entire day, it would make it much harder to ignore the tension between them and her own temptation to kiss the infamous Dan Phantom again—this time with no more motivation behind it than her own desire.

"Hello, dear," an older woman dressed in a cooking apron walked up from the other side of the line to serve her.

Valerie shook out of her thoughts and smiled back, thankful for the distraction. "Hey, Margie."

The older woman loaded extra eggs and bacon onto a plate for her and said, "I heard Phantom killed twenty in Jasper. Reports say he would have killed more if you hadn't shown up so fast." She pointed her eyes. "You okay? Did you get hurt at all?"

Valerie blinked. "No, I'm fine." She looked over nervously at Dan, who stared back, as if curiously awaiting her response as well. The weight of twenty deaths seemed to bridge between them, reminding her that "D" was not at all a hero. "He, uh…didn't hurt me this time."

Margie, the cook, looked greatly relieved. "You risk so much, dear. Are you eating enough? Sleeping enough? Nathan leaving you alone yet?"

"I'm fine," Valerie said again, beginning to feel self-conscious and worried about the reference to Nathan, especially in the presence of Dan, who still seemed likely to try killing Nathan. God, why was everyone so candid about her problems today? "Uh," she tried to distract the cook, "can I have some of that soup you're putting out? Looks good."

"Certainly, dear." The nosey woman began to dish some of the potato soup into a bowl, and she placed it on Valerie's tray. Then she looked over at Dan for the first time, and a happier smile overcame her. "And is this stranger your secret boyfriend we've heard so much about?"

Valerie blushed, eyes widening a bit. "Um…"

"My, what a handsome young man!" Margie breathed. She loaded on scoop after scoop of eggs onto his plate, somewhat star-struck. "Just look at him! Ain't he a looker?"

Dan cast a signature smile at the cook. "You're too kind," he said, his deep voice smooth with something that suggested he was playing along for Valerie's own mortification.

The old cook cooed, "It's so nice to see a fresh face." She leaned in and winked. "And I hear you're protecting her from unwanted affections, huh?"

"Oh my god," Valerie muttered, pulling away to find a table. She did not want to hear an old woman coo over _Dan_ and praise him for beating someone up. It was a whole new level of disturbing.

Dan simply soaked in the attention, calculating the worth of the woman as an informant. With Valerie gone, it was possible he could gleam more information from them. "I didn't know," he said carefully, "that Valerie had such troubles here."

The old woman leaned in. "I worry for her a lot, you know. That Nathan—" she cut herself off, then smiled painfully. She began to load a bowl of breakfast soup for him as well. "Well, I'm just glad you're tagging along with her today."

Dan frowned. "What have you seen Nathan do?"

She looked a bit worried. "He's just…getting worse, always tagging her down and not taking no for an answer. Our poor Valerie spends most of her life fighting off one crazy man, only to spend the rest of it fighting another."

Dan gracefully managed to stifle the sudden fury that whipped through him – _How dare this decrepit insect compare me to a worm_ — _I am not crazy_ —and he smiled to hide his eye-twitch. "Don't worry," he said through his gritted smile. "I intend to stop Nathan for good."

And then he turned away, digging his fingers into his plate with barely restrained anger. Something about the comparison, that Dan Phantom was crazy like Nathan, burned him. He was not crazy like Nathan. He and Valerie certainly had their disagreements regarding justice and the sanctity of life, but their relational issues were…different in comparison to the blight that was Nathan.

Right?

His mind thought back to how Valerie had grabbed onto his collar and forced him down to kiss him. That had to mean something. The way her heart had raced for him…the way her eyes dilated with a raw lust when he'd traced her hips… He had not forced her to kiss him, to open her mouth to his and grab hard onto his hair.

He looked at Valerie who had settled at a table towards the corner of the atrium and was readjusting her wild pony tail. She looked up, as if feeling his eyes. And though her face tightened with some kind of emotion, it was not a fear or hatred. Rather, her face reddened a bit as she…ran her eyes over him?

Was she checking him out as he walked?

His slight fear melted away into full confidence, and he nearly laughed. Though he knew himself to be quite contrary to human morality, he had enough evidence to conclude that Valerie wanted him regardless. He unashamedly met her gaze, then swept his eyes over her body to return the favor.

That blush of hers deepened, and yet she did not look away.

That had to mean something too.

As he walked up, he set his tray down and sat opposite of her. "You know," he said, "your choice of the far corner table suggests that either you wish to isolate me, or that you wish to isolate yourself. Or both."

"That would be the idea," she said dryly. "Can't have you causing chaos out in the open."

He could not argue with her logic, as he did enjoy chaos. With a sniff of superior distain, he sat down and puzzled over the experience of pretending to be human again. Being so…domesticated, if only for a while.

"This table has a flawed design," he declared suddenly, frowning. With hardly any force, he pushed against its side, and it wobbled, shaking the plates. "It's obviously cheap and inferior. The tiling might also be uneven."

Valerie rolled her eyes. She stabbed her fork into her eggs and began to eat. With a cheek full of food, she said in a muffled voice, "That happens on a budget."

"This seat is too hard."

"I'm pretty sure I've slammed you into buildings that were harder."

His nose scrunched. He stared at her plate, then his. He whined, "And your food looks better than mine."

She gave him an incredulous look. "It's the _same damn thing_."

"Yes, but you received one extra piece of bacon than I did. I feel challenged by this."

"…Oh my god, you are ridiculous," she moaned. "I don't get you. You don't even eat food. Why do you care?"

"Because I demand superiority and perfection in all things. And if I must make personal sacrifices for our mutual benefit, then I at least wish to do so in style." With a bit of hesitance, he picked up a bacon strip and eyed it, then tentatively bit down on the edge. He added slowly after another bite, "Though I suppose the taste isn't horrific." He actually looked rather pleased, and he settled into some kind of contentment, munching down with greater hunger. "Not bad."

Valerie looked relieved that she wouldn't have to endure further complaining. Dan complaining about anything usually gave her a headache.

The lines of Dan's body grew more relaxed as he began to truly enjoy his breakfast, and Valerie began to wonder if perhaps Dan had missed the simple pleasure of eating. If that were the case, she thought wryly, then it was no wonder he wanted to kill people all the time. She'd be pretty pissed too if she didn't eat.

But if food were the secret to taking down Dan Phantom, the Ravager of Worlds, then she was likely to either laugh or cry. She could almost imagine her dead mother tapping her nose and reminding her that she'd forgotten one life truth: _The way to a man's heart was through his stomach._

As Valerie contemplated her mini-career crisis, Dan slurped on the breakfast potato soup. Its taste pleasantly surprised him, and he swallowed in delight, feeling the way the warmth ran down to his belly. Truly, this was a much better way of warming himself up than smoking.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Valerie eat, noting her lack of table manners with great interest until she grew self-conscious and set her fork down in a huff, one cheek still bulged with food. "What? You got a problem?" she said, voice muffled.

He smiled. "I occasionally forget that you're human and weak. Your sloppy eating habits are a pleasant reminder."

She blushed at the underhanded criticism, then stabbed her fork back into her eggs with more force. "Yeah? Well, if you want a pretty princess, go somewhere else."

"Do I _look_ like someone who would tolerate a pretty princess?"

"You tolerated Paulina," she pointed out, a spark of subconscious jealousy coming over her. Paulina—the perfect hourglass woman with the perfect hair and perfect skin and the perfect table manners and—

"—That was business, not pleasure." His lips dropped into a frown. "Certainly not anything I'd like to do again. Her voice has a whine like that of a dying cat, and her intelligence quotient is nonexistent."

Valerie nearly choked on her eggs to hide the smile that wanted to stretch on her face. No man dared to criticize the perfection that was Paulina Sanchez. The fact that Dan was not at all interested in her lightened a strange load from her heart, even though she felt obligated to defend Paulina. "That _is_ my friend you're insulting. And you still haven't told me yet what you talked about while I was gone."

He waved his spoon casually. "Mostly about you and how…concerned we both are for you."

She huffed, biting into a piece of bacon with more force than was necessary. "What exactly did she say?"

"And why do you care so much?" he demanded. "Why do you wish me to remain ignorant to your life here?" He began to jump to conclusions. "Has Nathan done something to you that you want to hide?"

She blushed, eyes widened. "What? No! No. It's just—" She huffed. "You're here to play my boyfriend. You don't need to know every detail about my life story."

In truth, there were just some things she did not want to have to explain to Dan. It would be embarrassing, and if he were so truly possessive, then it was possible he would lose whatever self-control he had managed to harness.

Too bad he had a one-track mind.

"To properly end Nathan's obsession with you," he said, "I need to understand in what ways he accosts you. That way, I know where to be. How to respond." He smiled darkly. "What to determine as an appropriate punishment for him."

She pointed her finger. "And that's exactly why you don't need to know everything. Because you have no concept of justice."

He frowned. Perhaps Valerie simply needed some introspection regarding her own problem. He munched on eggs for a second, waving his fork. "If my superior deduction skills have not degraded, I assume that you spend much of your time here doing paperwork and training. Is this true?"

"…Yes?"

"And then," he said, voice growing stronger with confidence, "judging by the eyewitness accounts from your bimbo friend and the old insect, you spend the rest of your time attempting to avoid Nathan. Is this true as well?"

Her face flamed up, and she looked away from him. The silence between them weighed heavy, and it spoke greater words than Valerie herself would be willing to admit. It was the first time Valerie had truly thought about how much of her non-Phantom life revolved around avoiding Nathan.

She sighed out a groan and set her fork down. "I just…don't know what to do anymore."

"Please tell me at least that you don't still hide under lunch tables."

"No, I grew out of that." She seemed frustrated. "But nothing I do stops him. He just keeps…doing stuff. You sure this whole pretending-to-be-a-couple thing is really gonna stop him?"

"We shall see," Dan said, calculating. "If he's intelligent, he'll back off."

Almost as if the human knew he was being talked about, Nathan entered the cafeteria, wearing a white coat and carrying a clipboard. For a second, Nathan's eyes scanned the room, and they automatically roved over to Valerie, running over her frizzed ringlet hair and moving downward.

Dan narrowed his eyes into a dark glare. Nathan snapped out of his Valerie-induced trance and looked over at Dan, paling a bit. For a second, Nathan looked every inch the defenseless and terrified worm, but then he licked his lips and hardened his own gaze, walking on.

Dan blinked in surprise.

"Lemme guess," Valerie deadpanned. Even though her back was turned away from the hall, she had an idea of what was happening. "You're seeing Nathan, right?"

The ghost snarled, "What's he doing _here_?"

"Yeah, he kinda lives here, so he'll eat here too."

A growl worked its way up Dan's throat, his hand clenching his spoon hard enough to bend it. "That little shit," he snarled. "After his lesson, he still looks at you. He just challenged me."

"You're bending the spoon."

"Irrelevant," he snapped. "Nathan needs to die. Right now."

She kicked his foot underneath the table. "No, he doesn't. And you promised you wouldn't kill anyone. You better stick to that promise, or—"

"—Or what?" he demanded. "Do you honestly wish for Nathan to continue bothering you?"

Valerie looked uncomfortable as she said slowly. "No, but I don't want him to die. I just want him to stop…wanting me."

"What's the difference?" Dan said with a snarl. Possession over Valerie seemed to grip him stronger than even his usual bloodlust. "He deserves to have his blood paint the walls. He just revealed how unintelligent he really is, by looking upon you with such desire, knowing that you are mine—"

She leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "—I'm nobody's. And you better put a cap on that anger, right now. If you snap and try to kill Nathan, that illusion of yours will have to be arrested for manslaughter. Whatever freedom you have to be a different person here, you'll lose it." She crossed her arms. "And you'll lose me too."

He snapped up to look at her, his blue eyes straining with red. "Why?" he demanded, the thought driving his anger deeper. "Why would I lose you for _doing you a favor_?"

"Because," she said shortly, crossing her arms, "Valerie Gray's got a problem with officially dating murderers. And right now, 'D' isn't one, unlike the rest of you. So if you want a repeat of this morning at all, stop. Now."

His eye twitched, and he glared at her, grumbling under his breath. "That is cruel manipulation." But he hesitated, seemingly at war with himself to calm the possessive fury that swarmed within him. He knew at some core that Valerie was right; killing Nathan now, who only wielded a clipboard and had done little more than look upon Valerie, would likely result in many consequences that would burn his false appearance forever. Valerie would be forced to split ties with D, simply out of propriety.

With an unsteady jerk of his fingers, he re-bent his spoon back into shape and slurped on his soup again. His narrowed eyes tracked Nathan the entire time as the red-head moved through the breakfast line, then back out of the atrium and down the hall. And it was then that Dan realized this Nathan Green was a resilient sort of cockroach, who would likely keep coming back short of a nuclear blast.

He began to calculate on his mental chess board what it would take to stop Nathan forever, in a way that would make Valerie understand just how blind she was to Nathan's insanity. Then Valerie would willingly come running to him, admitting that he was right and that Nathan should die—

The chess pieces began to set into place. He'd expose Nathan at his worst, so that no one would dare to protect him from real justice.

And then, maybe then, "D" would be justified in the eyes of the human race to slit the throat of Nathan Green once and for all.

In the meantime, Valerie stared at her arch nemesis and his disgruntled expression. Phantom was a strange enemy to have, with his odd demands and love for the game itself. He was an even stranger love interest. And yet here he was, eating human food, taking interest in her day, acting protective. Even though he was still the same old Dan in so many ways, his fury on her behalf was…nice.

Nobody had ever offered to really help her with Nathan.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she failed to see him grab the extra piece of bacon off of her plate. "Hey!" She smacked his hand away with indignant anger. "That's mine."

He just smiled darkly, still calculating. "What? I haven't eaten anything in _years_."

* * *

The rest of the day flew by in a flurry. Dan remained largely attached to her, interested in her daily routine so he could understand how Nathan managed to bug her constantly. His curiosity went far enough that he was willing to stand guard while she did paperwork in her office, of which she had multiple stacks of debriefing reports waiting for her beside her desk.

Upon entering her office, Dan complained about the lack of pictures of him, and then he nosed around her desk until she whacked his arm with a stack of forms and told him to sit down while she worked. He then seemed to indicate that he was quite willing to perform a repeat of their "fake-out make-out" with the blinds closed, but she snapped that she had work to do.

"Valerie," he moaned in complaint. "Do you even realize the torment you're putting us through by sitting there and…pretending this morning didn't happen?"

She blushed. "Look, I said it was good, alright? I just…"

"Are you afraid?"

Her voice was defensive. "No."

"I think you are."

"No, I'm not."

He smiled. "Yes, you are. You fear the consequences of a physical relationship with me, even though we have been…intimately connected in the mind for almost a decade." He leaned on the front of her desk. "You fear that once the newness wears off of our physical relationship, your life will descend into some greater misery."

She gaped at him from over a blank report, her pen frozen in her hand. A blush began to bloom over her face. "That isn't…I mean—"

He waved it off. "Such fears are for those who have no mental investment in their lovers." He looked at her. "It's for the people who define their relationship through physicality alone. After ten years, I'd say we have fairly solid foundations enough to know we are above such trivialities."

"We aren't lovers," she said dryly.

A mischievous smirk tilted his lips. "Not yet." Valerie sputtered, her mouth tightening into a thin line, and she looked back down at her work in irritation.

His smirk stretched, but he stopped teaasing, for he knew Valerie would only grow more irate with him if he continued. He looked over at the impressive bookcase that lined one of her walls. "So why do you have so much paperwork?" he called over his shoulder.

"Because," she huffed. "I'm usually out fighting you from dawn to dusk. I'm like, six months behind on everything, no thanks to you."

"Oh, that's right," he said, browsing through the shelves of the bookcase, blindly scrolling through titles of medical care and engineering books. "I forgot that you're entirely human and incapable of cloning yourself to maximize efficiency."

"Yes," she said dryly. "Because that's how everyone solves their problems."

Then Dan fell uncharacteristically silent for a moment, something catching his eye. A whole section of Valerie's bookcase was dedicated not to nonfictional books, but to classical fiction.

He ran his forefinger over the titles, feeling the high-quality binding and gold letters. Some part of his mind (certainly not the Danny Fenton part) appreciated the old books. At times, it felt that he had perhaps read them as a child over and over again, which suggested the impulse was a vestige left over from one Vlad Plasmius—whose memories were largely conveyed in little more than emotion. But he did not usually try to separate himself out into parts, and so the impulse was simply his own. As he read over the titles, great enjoyment swarmed through him. _The Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes. The Complete Works of Shakespeare. The Canterbury Tales. The Waste Land. Paradise Lost. The Heart of Darkness._

His eyebrow raised. "Why Valerie, I didn't know you had a classic book collection. Or that you even enjoyed reading."

She dropped her pen with a sharp sigh of irritation. She was not going to get work done with him interrupting her thoughts every few minutes. She painfully smiled. "I don't enjoy reading. I'd rather shoot myself."

"Why do you own these books then?"

"So I could figure out what you were saying half the time," she complained. "You always have to make these literary references and then expect me to act like I know what you mean."

"Did you ever research the story that included the beast with two backs?" he said suddenly. "I seem to recall a conversation about that."

"No. I already knew what that was." She blushed, not looking up from her work.

He waved _The Complete Works of Shakespeare_ at her. "You have it here," he said point-blank. "In _The Tragedy of Othello_."

"Well, if it entertains you so much, why don't _you_ read it?" She bit her lip as she desperately tried to focus on her debriefing form. Dammit, she'd lost her spot.

Dan pondered at the book, then put it back. "I've quite memorized Shakespeare," he declared. "Though I believe your copy of _Crime and Punishment_ is calling to me." He settled into the comfortable chair on the opposite side of her desk, cracking open the hard cover of the book. "Don't mind me."

"Oh, never," she said, voice falsely pleasant.

And as Valerie worked over the next hours, Dan alternated between reading, eyeing Valerie, and watching the door. He enjoyed the plot of the classic book, but he noticed Nathan pass by the office door over twenty times, looking through the window each time to see if Valerie were alone yet. Valerie was, of course, entirely unaware and engrossed in her notes. Each time, it grew harder and harder for Dan to sit still and avoid growling. He stopped reading the book entirely so that he could anticipate Nathan's next appearance. His glares grew darker until they were absolutely demonic. He could almost feel the black strands of his hair flicker up at the ends until he realized what he was doing.

The seventeenth time Nathan passed by, Dan lost it. He slammed his book shut and cast it to the floor. Then he stood and non-too-gently shut the blinds on Valerie's window, growling.

Valerie looked up from her debriefing report on the attack at Jasper City, raising a brow. "…What are you _doing_?"

He snapped, "For someone with expert battle and tracking skills, I'm surprised how much you don't notice here. Nathan keeps walking by. Do you realize he cases your office every fifteen minutes or less?"

She looked back down. "Nathan runs errands for a lot of departments. It's not like he can't move around."

"Don't make excuses for him," Dan said sharply, lip curling in a snarl. "Regardless of his station, he has no need to seek out your office and peer through your window. Don't be a pushover to your own race."

She slammed her fist on the desk, feeling insulted. "I am not a pushover. I just don't have time to worry about small things. If I can ignore him, I usually do."

"And that's worked so well," he said. He looked disturbed as he sat back down at his chair and crossed his arms. "You're the veritable lamb in a wolf den. A sitting duck."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Valerie asked, exasperated. "Nathan does a lot of work for the resistance. I can't kick him out. Maybe he just hasn't figured out yet you're here to stay, and that's why he's still...acting up."

With a furrowed brow of frustration, Dan grabbed _Crime and Punishment_ off of the floor, and he opened to his bookmark, grumbling beneath his breath. "If I weren't so displeased by your passivity, I would be delighted by your insinuation that you want my continued presence." He flipped a page with more force than necessary. "Everything with you is so complicated."

Valerie snorted. "Well, get used to it. I'm not about to change just for you."

He dug into his jacket pocket for his cigarette and lighter, realizing that his core temperature was beginning to leech into the air. As he lit the end of the cigarette, he said, "I would be cross if you were anyone but yourself."

And the two of them fell into a relatively comfortable silence at that, Valerie grumbling to hide her pleased expression and the confliction she felt gazing at this wolf in sheep's clothing, who could say the most heartfelt things at all the worst times.

Dan looked back down at _Crime and Punishment_. As he breathed in deep the cigarette smoke, he focused on the story, losing himself in the spaces, for he knew that bantering with Valerie more would risk his chances of kissing her later.

He didn't want to admit it, but the comfortable space between them—occasionally making off-hand comments to Valerie as he read a book about self-destruction and justice—Valerie occasionally responding with a biting response—was actually quite nice. He could almost forget that they were supposed to be mortal enemies.

He wondered if perhaps Valerie were capable of forgetting too.

* * *

Hours passed. The remaining pages of _Crime and Punishment_ began to grow fewer. The stacks of "to do" paperwork on Valerie's desk began to shrink. They occasionally took short breaks to walk around the resistance building—a suggestion on Valerie's part, mostly out of fear that Dan would grow bored and then unleash mayhem for his own entertainment.

Around dinner time, they found themselves back in the atrium. Dan decided to try eating spaghetti and was again enraptured by the taste of food, enough that he seemed to forget himself. She watched in amusement as the Ravager of Worlds spun his fork on his plate, eyes furrowed in great concentration as he tried to wind as many noodles as possible onto the utensil.

"Having fun?" she asked dryly.

He glared at her. "There's a _science_ to this." But then he sniffed in triumph as he raised the fork with a heaping tangle of noodles, and he slurped the noodles into his mouth, closing his eyes in bliss. If his enjoyment of food continued, he supposed he would have a reason to keep more humans than just Valerie alive. He would have to enslave only the best of cooks, and then they would have to cook him everything under the sun that he'd forgotten about for ten years—as well as every dish he'd never tried.

Valerie seemed to be genuinely entertained by him, the lines of her body relaxing as she leaned her head on her hand. "If you enjoy eating so much, then just wait till you have, like, a cookie or something. I wanna know what you look like on a sugar high."

He opened one brilliant blue eye, mischievous. "Do not tempt me."

* * *

Nathan lurked in the corners of the atrium, watching the couple curiously but never exposing himself.

He could see the hesitance in Valerie and the way her body—her innocent and virginal body—leaned in want for the man, even from across the table. He felt threatened and alone by her betrayal. For ten years, he'd managed to keep Valerie to himself. He knew she had never been with a man (he would have known, he always knew her social circles, whom she talked to, what men were in her life and how she'd always brushed off advances…what time at night she locked herself alone in her room…). He supposed her old flame with D was an event before he'd gained so much access to her life, but her actions and hesitance told him that she had not yet given in. Perhaps she had been saving herself for when she could give up ghost hunting and become a softer woman.

But now this D man (this demon!) had turned her head around. He was corrupting her and had already bruised her lips and touched her body. And Valerie wanted him to.

Nathan felt stuck. If he did nothing, Valerie would inevitably submit to D's charms, and then she would be ruined. If he tried to interfere, D would inevitably beat him again. And if he tried to hurt D, then Valerie would likely never forgive him because her mind was corrupted and weakened.

He had to do something. He had to preserve whatever was left of the real Valerie Gray—before D could corrupt that too.

Nathan's fist clenched, and his breath hitched. This was no longer a time for ideas; he needed an action plan. He had to preserve Valerie from D's touch. He had to stop D. He had to keep Valerie from ever being tempted by another man.

_He had to stop D_.

Slowly, ideas connected in his head, aligning into a plan that stretched a sad smile across his face.

He supposed Valerie's secret love for him was a passing thought, for she obviously was willing to pursue other men. To have her to himself forever and ever, to punish D, he would have to be strong. He would have to take matters into his own hands. And he would have to do the unthinkable to save Valerie from her own horrible mistakes.

* * *

Dan and Valerie remained in the atrium long after everyone else had left, speaking in tones too low for Nathan to hear from his spot behind a corner.

"So," Dan asked with great interest, "where do I sleep tonight?"

She sat back in her chair, arms crossed. "We've got some extra rooms down my hall," she said. "You can take one of them."

His face faulted. "You mean, not your room?"

"Nope. Not my room." She looked unforgiving. "Don't push me on this, because I'm not budging."

"But—" he huffed. Then his lips pursed with great disappointment, until he leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "How can you expect me to protect you from Nathan if I am separated from you?"

"He's not gonna be in my room," she deadpanned. "He's not that crazy. And don't use Nathan as an excuse to manipulate me into letting you in."

He exhaled sharply, eyeing her. He had half a mind to tell Valerie that it was very much possible for Nathan to be that crazy, now that "D" existed as the new chess piece to shake up the status quo. He also thought to tease Valerie about her virgin fears regarding bedrooms—but she would probably kick him for that, and then he certainly would not get another kiss. At least for a while.

"It's very cruel," he said, "that you will swap spit with me here in the hall, but you delay sharing your bed."

She shined her bright teeth, a predatory look in her eye. "Don't hold your breath, lover boy."

He raised a brow, his lips stretched into a Cheshire grin that matched hers. "I don't have to breathe, Valerie."

Her face faulted into a pout at that. "Well, you don't have to sleep either, but _I_ do. And you've already cut into my sleep schedule—" she looked up at the clock on the wall, which said 10:04—"by over an hour."

Now that he thought about it, Valerie _did_ look a bit tired. The open weakness that seemed to exist in the lines of her body suddenly fascinated Dan, who had never seen the famous Ghost Slayer act anything but alert and lively. "Don't tell me that Valerie Gray the Ghost Slayer is an old person who goes to bed before midnight."

"I get up early," she said shortly. "Which means I have an early bed time. You know, when _somebody_ doesn't mess that up too."

He shrugged. "Interrupting sleep is part of my job description as an evil villain."

She asked tiredly as she stood up and grabbed her lunch tray, "Look, can I trust you to not do something insane in the middle of the night?"

"I'd never trust me," he said, lips tilting dark. "But I have slept out of boredom before. For you, I suppose I can engage in such hibernation."

The thought that he would again restrict himself on her behalf (even temporarily) send a wave of happiness through her. She reached out with her free hand and patted his face. "Good boy."

He pulled away from her touch and growled a bit in a disgruntled manner, but damn if he didn't actually enjoy it or the sound of Valerie's resounding, rough laugh.

* * *

A time later found them walking down the sleeping quarters of the resistance, which were several halls dedicated to dorm-like rooms. "We're not completely militarized," Valerie said as they passed by the first hall, "so most of us either have our own rooms or roommates. All nonessential personnel have their own housing offsite."

Dan looked a bit relieved by this. "So no barracks that you have to share with other insects—I mean, humans?"

"No," she said dryly. "But the community showers keep you feeling pretty close."

His face faulted, and his nose scrunched. "That is disgusting."

They passed by doors with slick metal plaques on the front that named their inhabitants and titles. Dan supposed they had entered into the quarters for the central command—and here he was, walking in their very midst, undetected.

The thought was a slight comfort to him, a reminder that he truly wasn't human. That he was above all of this triviality and organization.

Eventually, Valerie stopped at a simple black door that matched all of the other doors—lacking a title plaque. She entered a passcode on the door's security lock, and it opened up into a respectable room with a desk and several lights illuminating a large bed. "You'll stay here in tonight," she said.

He looked around the hall, less interested in the room and more interested in his surroundings. The door precisely opposite to his said, _Valerie Gray, Defense Commander_.

"Aww," he mocked. "Hallmates."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't read too much into it." She turned away and began to walk towards her own door. "I'm going to bed, so don't bother me. I'll get up around 4:00 to come get you."

He did not look away from her, his eyes strained. Was she really going to play like none of this carried meaning? "Valerie," he said suddenly, trailing after her.

"What?" she called out with a groan, punching in the passcode for her door. The locks unlatched, and the door cracked open. Her nice, warm bed was only several feet away.

"Do you even realize," Dan moaned in complaint, "that I have been patiently waiting all day to kiss you again?"

"…Huh—?"

In a blur, he was by her side. He turned her around by her hips and kissed her with barely restrained passion, weaving his fingers into her loose, ringlet hair to pull her closer. She gave a surprised squeak that made him only desire her more. His power core pulsed in time with her heartbeat, his universe constricting down to one Valerie Gray.

This—whatever this was—was far better than any kind of world conquest.

Valerie's shock quickly wore off, and he felt her relax into the kiss. Her fingers curled into the front of his jacket, as if to lock him to her. Their kiss deepened, and Dan groaned at the friction of her lips and tongue against his, his entire body humming in pleasure as he complicated her, and as she complicated him.

Was that that again about beds and sleep?

Their lips stretched in new ways, their need growing greater. Her bare fingers—oh god, she wasn't wearing her battle suit this time—twitched beyond the front buckles of his jacket. But before his entire mind could become mush, he pulled away and set his forehead against hers, closing his eyes to feel the life within her.

Their chests heaved in the silence. "There," he whispered breathlessly. "I wanted to tell you good night."

Her face was a pleasant red. "Oh," she said in a daze.

Very reluctantly, he pulled away from her, his fingers slipping from the curls of her hair. Her hands fell uselessly at her side, just as she leaned hard against the threshold to keep her standing. Then, as if nothing had happened, Dan walked away and to the empty room across the hall. He shut the door.

And for the first time in nearly a day, the infamous Dan Phantom was out of her sight.

Still in a daze, Valerie moved into her room and shut her door, and then she leaned against it, eyes wide. "Holy _shit._ " Her body was shaking in desire for him, a burning need still deep in her belly. This was all a very dangerous game. Surely, Dan knew that. Probably, he had planned it.

She hid her face in her hands, feeling as though she were betraying herself. "Am I crazy?" she whispered to the air. _Was_ she crazy for liking it? For kissing him back? Dan Phantom had murdered millions and laughed. In the past, he had attacked her and nearly killed her with his power. Her worth to him was based upon his perception of her ability to entertain him. She supposed that, if she failed to meet his standards, he would likely grow tired of her and try to kill her off again.

Which made this whole fake relationship hardly a relationship at all. Just a physical benefit of a temporary truce.

But oh, did her body ache for him in ways that she'd never felt before. She flushed deep, breathing shakily at the memory of his baritone voice rumbling softly against her neck.

_"We should get a room or something before we lose control."_

The truth was, she'd already lost control. The fact that he could honestly play the part of the protective, teasing boyfriend with a soft touch was—

"—Geez, Gray. Stop thinking about it," she complained. Slowly, she stood up and began to undo her belt and then her military uniform. "The more you think about it, the worse it's gonna get." She stepped out of her uniform and tossed it aside, looking for her pajama shorts and top. A small part of her began to wonder what it would be like to have Dan's hands undressing her.

She looked at herself in the mirror and reddened in self-conscious embarrassment. She didn't see herself as having a perfect body. It was terrifying to think of the excessively judgmental Dan staring at her naked and—

"Oh my god." She slapped her forehead, groaning. "Stop thinking like this." She unbuckled her bra and pulled on her shorts and tank top. Then she grabbed her hairbrush and began to undo her ponytail and the tangles that Dan's fingers had placed in her hair. Her hands shook. "It's not like that's ever gonna happen."

Damn that ghost for corrupting her thoughts like this. Now she would likely never see him the same way again.

Obviously, Dan was just infatuated with the idea of her and willing play around while he satisfied his need to take up every hour of her day. That was it. And she was just…infatuated with the idea that he was the only remaining fragment of the boy she'd once liked. None of this had anything to do with the fact that they understood the other person in too many ways—that they enjoyed their fights for too many reasons.

Right.

But a sudden knock at the door interrupted Valerie from her thoughts. The way the knock was hard and impatient sounded similar to Paulina's nightly knocks whenever she had juicy gossip to spread and an inability to keep her mouth shut. Valerie rolled her eyes. _Good grief._

"Paulina," she complained as she walked over and opened the door, "seriously, it's been a long day and I'm trying to sleep—"

Her voice died, and her eyes widened as she stared at the man before her. It was Dan, who was very interested in her threadbare tank top and shorts and her wild, loose hair that curled freely down her shoulders. It was the most disheveled state he'd ever seen her in.

"I'm not Paulina," he said, lips stretching wide as he realized that Valerie was not wearing a bra.

The air about him was slightly cooler, most likely from not smoking for a while. It goose-bumped her skin, and in paranoia, she crossed her arms over her chest. She half-thought about calling forth her battle gear to cover herself, but she did not want Dan to think she was actually threatening him. "The hell are you doing here?" she hissed, narrowing her eyes. "You got your own damn room."

"I got lonely," he pouted mockingly, leaning against the threshold. "I missed you."

She blushed red, grumbling. "I'm sure."

"Why don't you let me in?" he asked, sticking his face in hers. "I won't do anything you won't like."

"No," she whispered back. Her heart was racing with a fear that she actually would like whatever he was thinking. Which she was sure had something to do with adult-type touching.

With little warning, he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers in a teasing kiss. Then he pulled away the second Valerie began to lean in as well. He licked his lips, her warmth still tingling on his skin. "How about now?"

She looked put out and irritated with his attempts to persuade her. "You are _not_ going to seduce me into letting you into my room," she snapped, but her will looked weakened, the lines of her body softer.

He kissed her again, this time with more passion. He cupped the back of her neck, which radiated heat like fire, and he weaved his fingers into her stiff, frizzy curls.

Valerie felt herself give way beneath the snowstorm taste of his mouth, her mind blitzing. _Holy—he tastes good—want more—_ Her fingers tentatively inched beneath his leather jacket, feeling the soft fabric and cool, hardened muscle beneath. It was as if she wished to prove he truly existed—that this wasn't all a dream.

He moaned, pressing her between himself and the wall. "If not your room, then how about mine?" he whispered against her lips. This pajama-clad Valerie Gray had damn near shut down his entire brain. He could feel the soft tautness of her body against his. It was a drug for him. He wanted more of her in any way he could.

Valerie hesitated, as if to pull away from him. Her shaky breath was as a caress against his face. "It's not the room I'm worried about."

Dan was about to retort with a tease, but his heightened senses acknowledged suddenly the sound of a foot squeaking against tile. He pulled away from Valerie, who looked surprised at the loss of him. Then she followed his gaze in confusion, which was pointed left down the hall.

And standing in the hall was one Nathan Green, jaw dropped.

For a second, all three of them stood in silence with Dan and Valerie's uneven breaths to mark the passage of seconds.

Valerie swallowed hard, feeling embarrassed and caged. If she pushed Dan away, it would inspire Nathan to consider that she didn't want Dan (which she did). If she did something radical to confirm her attraction to Dan, it would tell Nathan once and for all that she was taken.

But then a radical move—she had one in mind—would be conceding defeat to Dan and his campaign.

_Dammit._

Nathan almost looked as if he would speak or cross the hall to them. The fear that bled into Valerie inspired her to make her radical movement. She grabbed onto one of the open front buckles of Dan's jacket, and she whispered loud enough for Nathan to hear, forcing her voice into a seductive tone, "We should take this inside."

Dan's blue eyes tightened. "I agree." He jauntily saluted Nathan with his middle finger, then kissed Valerie again, this time grabbing her hips to guide her backwards into her room. She gave a squeak of surprise, holding onto his neck for stability.

In a blur, he leaned Valerie against a wall and he absentmindedly kicked the door shut with his foot.

The resounding echo of the _click_ seemed to jar Valerie's mind that she had in fact just allowed Dan Phantom into her room, and that they were both still engaging in quite a bit of adult-type touching, even though they had no one like Nathan to pretend for anymore.

Dan's rough callouses sparked friction against her skin as his fingers slipped beneath the waistline of her shorts and the hem of her tank top. She gasped against his lips and tightened her grip. She knew something about this was wrong. No matter the illusion of human skin, these were the hands of a murderer at best. It was not supposed to feel so good to have them upon her body. To have Dan Phantom in her _bedroom_ , sexing her up. To be doing the same to him.

This was wrong—all wrong.

She turned her head, breaking their kiss. She gasped for air, eyes wide. "W-we gotta stop," she whispered, voice wavering. "This wasn't—it's just cause Nathan—" Her mind felt scattered, her tongue still tingling with the taste of snow. "You gotta leave."

His hands slipped from her body slowly. "I don't think either of us want me to leave."

She swallowed hard. "Stop it." She pulled away, facing the door to hide her blush. "Do you think Nathan's still out there?"

"Most likely." He turned her chin back so that they remained eye-to-eye. His gaze was wicked and calculating as he murmured, "If you'd really like to disturb him, let me sleep in your room tonight. Nathan will get…ideas about what we've done." His thin lips stretched. "Unless you want to make it more than an idea."

She inhaled a sharp breath. The idea wasn't repulsive, but it was terrifying. Her tongue felt caught in her mouth. "No," she said, forcing her voice to harden against him. "You make it sound like this is all for my benefit, when it's really just for yours."

He looked frustrated and put out. "You can't keep denying that our attraction is mutual. Honestly, you're tormenting us both. You could gain from this arrangement as well."

"You can't expect me to trust you," she retorted. "Everything's got a price with you. Everything's got an angle."

He brushed his calloused thumb against her cheek, then her lips, which were soft and full like petals. "I'm not a hero, Valerie. You know that." His voice was dark, smooth as velvet. "You can't expect selflessness from me. But I know you are just as manipulative as I am, just as wicked." He mocked her. "So don't pretend to be a saint on my behalf, because you've never been one."

She whispered in a snarl, "I'm not evil like you." She pushed him away despite the pain of denying herself the sparks of pleasure she knew she could feel under his hands.

"Good and evil are very relative terms," Dan said dryly. He moved forward again, brushing her ringlet curls away from her cheek. "Were you me—if you could feel what I have felt—you would feel justified to take life and destroy as recompense. To rule as compensation."

She set her mouth into a hard line. It was difficult to feel such attraction for a man whose perspective in no way aligned with her own. "That's not an excuse," she said, poking his chest hard. "And deep down, you know it. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here having so much fun _pretending to be human again_."

He grabbed onto her hand. Funny, she did not feel threatened by his actions. "I am not human," he said. His strong fingers caressed hers. "And I do not understand your ridiculous morality. But let me stay here with you. You told me earlier today that desiring to be in the presence of a like mind is…human. I want to understand this more. Is that not enough?"

At some core, the ravaged mind that was a broken Daniel Fenton and a jaded Vlad Plasmius were aligned in this. The whole of Dan Phantom suffered from the most human longing of all—to have someone to share time with. To have a companion of sorts who could keep up with him. He looked away, mouth set in an uncomfortable line.

These were not thoughts to vocalize, for he knew they were the driving force behind his chess games with Valerie. He had perhaps already said too much.

Valerie leaned against the wall, rubbing her temples. _Fuck my life._ "Are you seriously using my own words against me so I'll feel like I'm contributing to your evilness if I make you leave?"

"As a matter of fact…"

She looked up and glared at him. Then the fight left her. "I hate you," she groaned. "I don't know why you keep arguing just for space—"

He moved forward. "So I can stay?"

Her voice grew hard as she conceded. "If you do, you're sleeping on the floor. No exceptions. And if you try anything, and I mean _anything_ , the battle suit comes on, and I'm drop-kicking you out the window. Got it?"

He looked mildly disappointed, but expectant. "It is a better arrangement than having to sleep on sheets that other humans have previously slept on."

She gave him an incredulous look as she began to move towards her dresser. The bottom drawer contained an extra set of sheets, and she pulled them out with a suffering sigh. "So what do you call stuff I've slept on?"

"Well, that's different. _You've_ slept on them, which makes them better."

"That makes no sense."

"You know you love it."

She huffed, but said nothing as she unraveled the sheets and laid them out along the carpeted floor. Her room was small enough that Dan would be laying down right beside her bed. Something about that sparked her tingles all over again.

She heard the rustle of clothes, and she looked up, realizing that Dan was shrugging out of his jacket. Then she froze, paling. "…What are you doing?!"

"You can't expect me to remain dressed, can you?" he asked simply, kicking off his combat boots. Then he began to unbuckle the belt on his pants. "Truly, I despise how restricting normal clothes are."

She looked horrified as she quickly looked away before her eyes could get stuck watching him undress. "Ohmigod." Her blush deepened and spread all the way down her collarbones. "You've gotta be kidding me."

He huffed at her, pulling the tie out of his hair. He was now in only his jeans and a tight, thin shirt. "What?" he asked as he ran his fingers through his light tangles, giving her bedroom eyes. "It's not like I'm getting naked. Unless you _want_ me to get naked."

She slapped her forehead. Her voice strangled. "No, I don't want you naked. Keep your pants on. Seriously."

Dan rolled his eyes, but he conceded, for he knew he would likely have to warm her up to the idea of heavier adult-type touching over the course of time.

One day—he knew it—the sexual tension would have to go somewhere. It was inevitable. He could feel it.

Valerie sighed wearily. She pulled off the extra pillow off of her bed and cast it onto the sheets she'd set out. "It's like, freakin' 11:00. I am going to sleep whether you like it or not." And she climbed onto her bed, then flipped a switch on the wall. The room fell into darkness but for the slight moonlight from her window.

In the dark, Dan pulled off the thin shirt he'd worn beneath his jacket. As Valerie asked so nicely, he kept his pants on, though he wish he had access to something other than jeans—those were not comfortable sleepwear at all. With a suffering sigh, he stretched onto the pile of blankets. He marveled at how familiar this all felt despite years of not sleeping, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric.

He twisted onto his back, placing his hands behind his head. The sheets smelled like detergent and Valerie, of which he liked the Valerie part. "Hmm," he said, closing his eyes. "Now, Valerie—I know you have a manipulative streak in you. So if I hibernate myself on your request, only to discover you taking advantage of me, I shall be very cross."

She snorted into her pillow. From Dan's angle, all he could see was a few strands of her hair. But then her face appeared over the side of the bed in a tumble of curls, an eyebrow cocked with incredulity. "Right back at you, buddy."

His smile still shined white, even in the darkness. He watched as her eyes swept over his body, from his broad shoulders down. His lips stretched wider. "Like what you see?"

She blushed, then looked away, her head disappearing back over her bed. "I was just making sure you weren't hiding any weapons on you."

The excuse was poor, for both knew Dan Phantom did not carry physical weapons. "Whatever makes you sleep better, Valerie," he called up to her with a dark chuckle. "Whatever makes you sleep better."

Silence fell between them, with nothing but the sound of Valerie's grumble and the furnace breathing warm air into the room. It was an almost comfortable arrangement. Almost like they were old friends—and perhaps in some twisted way, they were.

When Dan said nothing more for quite some time, Valerie grew curious to know if he were really behaving. Clenching her covers tighter around her, she inched her eyes over the edge of her bed to peer down at him. She blinked in surprise. Dan had covered himself in a blanket and turned on his side away from her. For someone who boasted never having to sleep, and who said his energy was endless, Dan appeared out like a light. The naked lines of his shoulders rose and fell in a breath that Dan did not need, but likely did out of subconscious habit. Every line in his body was relaxed in a way she had never seen.

Did he really trust her so much to sleep in her presence?

Something twitched Valerie's lips into an amused smirk. For a time, she simply watched him in curiosity, burrowing against her pillow, marveling at this strange ghost who had destroyed her life in so many ways and yet still carried sparks of the Danny she once knew.

Then she pulled her blankets over herself and turned on her side. _I can't believe he's sleeping in my_ _ **room**_ , she thought ruefully, squeezing her eyes shut tight to rid herself of the tingles that still ran down her body. _What the hell is my life coming to?_

Soon enough, her exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she relaxed deep into dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Valerie awoke around four, as always. Dan was still fast asleep on the floor, his black hair tangled about the pillow. His bare torso was exposed, and he'd twisted himself into a rather odd position, one arm thrown across his eyes.

She bit her lip to hide a smile. She wasn't sure if she could ever classify Dan as cute, but his awkward sleeping habits were enough to make her question if his subconscious were truly diabolical. It appeared everything he did subconsciously was in fact a normal Danny-ish behavior. Maybe it was just because he was wearing a Danny-ish illusion, and she was looking for the similarities.

Not wanting to take any chances, she grabbed her uniform off of the floor, and she quietly tip-toed out to change in the women's washroom. Dan remained peacefully asleep, even though a few muscles twitched at the sound of her footsteps.

Valerie shut the door behind her, sending up a prayer to heaven that Dan perhaps would not wreak havoc in her absence. She ran a hand through her wild curls, feeling tired and that she needed to brush her teeth and comb her hair. And maybe shave her legs.

And then it hit her that such thoughts were very self-conscious ones, and that she was thinking them precisely because of the man sleeping on her bedroom floor. Her face bloomed with a blush.

_What is wrong with me?_

Her heart pulled strangely at the thought of Dan, who was also Phantom—and she could not afford to forget that he was Phantom. He was playing mind games with her and enjoying them too much to stop himself. He would probably ooze with pride if he knew that she was fretting over her physical appearance because of him. That her heart was beginning to pound just thinking about him.

She grumbled under her breath as she turned around the corner. "Stupid Phantom." She opened the door to the women's public washrooms.

And standing there, hunched over a mirror as always, was the one and only Paulina Sanchez. At the sound of the door turning, the beautiful Latina turned around, almost apprehensive. She looked Valerie over once. Then her face faulted. "Chica," she greeted in a whine, "you don't at _all_ look like you had sex."

Valerie blinked. "…Cause I didn't?" she retorted honestly, face flushed. "Why do you care?"

"Because Star said Nathan told Kwan and Dash he saw D go into your _room!_ " Paulina complained in disbelief. "Chica, _how?_ How did you manage to go an entire night with that hot piece of ass and not lose something?!"

"How is that any of your business?" Valerie snapped. Was everyone spying on her love life? She moved to the lockers and began entering in her passcode. "Seriously, Paulina. There's reasons it never worked out ten years ago. And a lot's happened since we…last talked."

Paulina rolled her eyes. "Excuses." She was curling the ends of her hair so that each strand bounced upon her shoulders with wavy body. "Don't be afraid to give in, honey. Waiting too long drives them off."

Valerie's eye twitched, and she slammed the locker door shut with a little too much force. "Oh, sure," she retorted, gripping tight to her shower bag and towel. "Because sleeping with someone on the first night really made your relationships last, huh?"

A spark of real pain flashed in Paulina's eyes. She blinked and slowly lowered her curling iron, setting her jaw. In truth, she'd slept with enough men to know that the whole of Amity Park was burned for her. Most men knew Paulina Sanchez well enough to see that she was just a pretty face—and little else, which was an identity she could not seem to break away from. The woman's face began to blush with something between shame and true hurt. "I'm just…trying to live through you," she said slowly. She bit her lip. "Come on, D's not like me or other guys here. He's obviously in this for the long haul."

"Then he can wait. I barely know him, Paulina."

"So….you _are_ playing hard to get, then? Making him sweat it out?"

Valerie inhaled sharply. "Dammit, why does sex have to be a mind game, like…like it's in exchange for something?" Her face was fully red, with anger or embarrassment, she didn't know. "I'm not playing 'hard to get.' I didn't have sex because I didn't want to have sex. Okay? Happy?"

Paulina returned to curling her hair, looking a bit more thoughtful. "You make it sound like it's so easy to not want."

Valerie face-palmed. "Oh my god. Paulina."

"What?" she said helplessly. "How else do you know if a guy loves you?"

"…That doesn't even deserve a response." Valerie entered into a shower stall. Then she began to undress, and she threw her pajamas and her towel over the shower stall door. "Look, D's just a guy from the past. I'm probably just using him to get rid of Nathan, and he's probably just using me for fun. It's not even worth getting involved with him."

Paulina bit her lip. "Did he even ask you to have sex?"

"What does it matter?" Valerie nearly wailed. She turned on the hot water, and the soft waterfall blasted against her, unraveling her tight muscles. She sighed, leaning her head into the stream. She was thankful for her friends. But sometimes, Paulina was just annoying. "I made him sleep on the floor. Nothing happened."

Paulina tapped her chin. "Chica, I'm confused," she called out, voice deceptively innocent. "You say he's just in it for fun. But you were the only girl he'd even _look_ at yesterday. If he were a real player, he'd have at least flirted when you were gone. So whatever he wants, it's not any other girl."

Valerie blinked. She thought back to the way Dan's tongue had slipped against hers, his hands grabbing for her skin in an intimate way. She thought back to their time in her office, where he'd admitted that he had a mental investment in her alone. A strange feeling overcame her. As she stood in the hot water, her skin goose bumped. She wiped the water from her face. She called out helplessly, "Look, I know this ain't gonna last. You don't understand him. He plays mind games, and he just wants power. Maybe he's fixated on me because it's a challenge. Okay? So can we drop it now?"

She could not hear Paulina's huff over the roar of the shower head, but she heard a faint, "Okay, okay." And a great relief tumbled from Valerie's shoulders as she closed her eyes. _Thank you_ , she prayed to the heavens.

For a time, there was blissful silence. Valerie washed her hair and shaved her legs, and by the end of it, she was quite hesitant to turn off the hot water. But she knew she had better things to do, and so she sighed and turned off the water, grabbing onto her towel and wrapping herself up.

As she opened up the shower stall door, she realized Paulina was still bowed over a sink, perfecting her eyeliner. Her hair was curled, her uniform adjusted to expose her arms and thin stomach. Paulina did not even look away from the mirror when she asked, "So was your boy toy up yet when you left?"

The thought left Valerie feeling a bit uneasy. "…No?" So far, no strange clones of Dan Phantom had popped up, and Dan had seemed pretty deep in sleep (although she did not typically equivocate sleep and vulnerability with the infamous Dan Phantom, the Ravager of Worlds). She dropped her shower bag onto the floor, still holding tight to the towel wrapped around her. Then she grabbed for her military uniform and ducked into a different stall to change into her clothes. "I'm not his keeper."

She could hear the mischievousness in Paulina's voice. "Then that means we have time to give you a makeover, right?"

Valerie rolled her eyes as she pulled on her clothes, buckling the uniform's belt tightly. At a subconscious level, she tightened it an extra rung, which she knew would better accentuate her figure. And then she realized what she was doing, and she groaned in disgust at herself. "I don't need to look good for anyone," she declared loudly.

But five minutes later found her standing before a mirror beside Paulina, feeling uneasy. As Valerie stared at herself, she began to worry. Her ringlet hair was now but a frizzy, wet bun, her eyes bagged with tiredness, her shoulders bowed over from stress. It was strange—usually, she didn't care at all how she looked to other people.

With a groan, she pulled her hair out of its sloppy bun, and she began to comb it all out. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Virgin jitters?"

Valerie glared darkly at Paulina. "Ha ha."

Paulina looked over to her, pulling away from the mirror before her sink. "If it makes you feel any better, chica, D could be a virgin too. Which means if you ever get around to actually having sex, you'll have fun popping a couple of cherries together."

Valerie's face drained in embarrassment. She asked incredulously, "…How would you even _know_ he's a virgin?"

Paulina looked almost as if she were about to give an intellectual lecture, running her nails over the lapel of her uniform. "Sex is about learning the other person and making them happy. You're always a virgin when you start a new, serious relationship."

Valerie's face grew red, and she slapped her forehead. "Oh my god."

And back in Valerie's room, Dan slept on, unaware that his potential virginity was Paulina's favorite point of discussion. The realistic, tactile illusion of his human skin had worn hard on his power core, and at some point through the night, he'd given in, falling deep into sleep to replenish his energy. The Ravager of Worlds slept without interruption, the years of blood lust and destruction wearing down into the silk strands of dreams, his limbs peacefully relaxed within the scent of one Valerie Gray—something of sand and exotic flowers.

* * *

It took Valerie nearly half an hour longer than usual to ready herself, between Paulina's inane babbling and her own self-consciousness. She'd left the women's washrooms, her hair pulled down into a low, loose ponytail, her tight curls tamed into sleek ringlets. She'd foregone makeup because she never wore any anyway—and Dan would likely tease her about it if she tried.

But the nature of Paulina's conversations had permanently left her face stained with a blush, and she was certain that she'd never be able to look at Dan the same way again. It wouldn't even matter if he were in his full ghost form. Never the same.

Was she still really thinking about sex and Dan? Did her IQ _drop_ or something? Valerie Gray, Defense Commander, Red Huntress, did not concern herself with trivial social exploits, and quite frankly if she didn't get Dan out of her mind, she was going to go crazy.

She needed a distraction. Now.

Valerie was so caught up in her sudden existential crisis that she missed the human shadow trailing after her in the dark.

Nathan stood out of her periphery, eyes wide at the sight of her. He bit his lip, then paid close attention to the gait of her walk and the way she seemed unhappy. Something dark stretched his lips, alongside a swirl of insane hope. Valerie wasn't with D. And judging by her actions, she wasn't so happy with D after all. She probably felt trapped. She needed someone to save her from her own sins, as D would likely continue to seduce and steal whatever was left of her, body and mind.

Nathan believed he would save her. He just had to get on her radar somehow—or get her away from D. Forever.

* * *

Since Dan was asleep, Valerie realized it was the perfect chance to get more of her urgent, classified work done—namely, the inventory stock report from the weapons shipment from Russia. She'd discovered the report in her pile of office work but had filed it away for later. She could not afford for Dan to see that weapons shipment. In the event he truly went insane, it was imperative that she not compromise the resistance any more than it already was…

Valerie sighed as she walked to her office and grabbed the report and a pencil. "As if it matters," she grumbled. "Freakin' walks around like he owns the place…Thinks he's so cool…"

She made her way to the shipment storage and arsenal, still grumbling a bit against Dan. Lucky her, the hallways were still empty—or else she'd have a hell of a time trying to explain away why the Red Huntress was talking to herself.

At the large vault of the high security clearance area, Valerie punched in her passcode and then allowed the screen to scan her palm. " _Commander Valerie Gray_ ," acknowledged the female robotic voice. " _Welcome back_."

"Yeah, yeah," Valerie grumbled, having tired of the AI voice a long time ago. She flicked on the room's lights, and the fluorescent overheads came to life with a cold sterility. Several storage shelves lined the room, but on the floor next to the door leading to the arsenal were a few large boxes with Cyrillic inscriptions on them. She'd become familiar enough with such an alphabet that she could read _Recipient: Commander Valerie Gray_ , as well as the address. Finally. The upgrades for her jet sled and weaponry.

Valerie looked down at the file in her hands. According to the list, the box contained several types of energy boosters, a quantum molecular storage port, and a fusion gun—all rather delightful toys of mayhem that would aid her in protecting Amity Park.

(Funny, her objective used to be destroying Dan Phantom…)

She began to sort through the box. But as she ran her fingers over the smooth energy boosters to attach to her jet sled, she realized something was missing. One of the special guns Russia had promised was not in the shipment.

She growled. "…What the?" This was the second time something like this had happened, and the Russian resistance had been adamant and arrogantly uncooperative. Were they running out of funds and attempting to gain more money?

She pulled the room's satellite phone off of its hook and began to punch in familiar numbers, then waited.

" _This is Andrei_?" answered a heavily accented, male voice.

She shouldered the phone, craning it against her neck. "What the hell, Andrei? Did I put in an order for a fusion gun or not? Because I got paperwork here that says it should have been in my stuff. And it wasn't."

The weapons transport specialist on the other side of the phone sounded tired from a long day's work. " _Ah. Commander Gray._ _You must look in other box. We shipped all weapons for you and have nothing left here. If you want copy of weapon, you must request order with Anton. Thank you. Good bye_."

And then the man hung up before Valerie could speak.

"…Dammit, Andrei." She hung up the phone, face twisted in anger. "There is no other box."

To her further dismay, she realized one of the few people who keep organizational tabs on the storage room and arsenal was one Nathan Green. She groaned. "Oh no. No. No." If she called him up, he would inevitably see it as her attempting to "admit her love" or something like that. If she did not call him up, she would have to live with not knowing why a weapon was missing from her shipment.

She hesitated for a moment or two, debating the consequences, then she (very tentatively) dialed the directory to contact him. Within seconds of punching in his number, his familiar, whiny voice answered.

" _Nathan Green, at your service_."

She tried to sound brusque and uninterested. "Yeah, Nathan—got a problem with our shipment from the Russian resistance. Says here I was supposed to get a fusion gun. It's missing. Where's it at?"

The man seemed to stall at the sound of her voice. " _Valerie? You're calling me_?" Then he seemed to snap out of it, his voice tightening in nervous excitement. " _Yeah, there were two boxes that came for you_ …" She heard papers shuffle on a clipboard. " _It came in yesterday_."

"It's not here," she said flatly. "Did you do something with it? Who else has had access?"

" _Uh, I placed it by your shelf_?" He stuttered, as if fearful of her wrath. " _I c-could have sworn I put them side by side. I don't know who else accessed the arsenal since yesterday. Maybe there was a mix up? I mean, not everyone reads R-Russian_?"

If it were possible, Valerie's face twisted into even greater irritation. "Well, it's not here. So either you lost it or someone took it. We can't have weapons just disappearing on us." She began to read more closely the safety disclosures. "It says here this gun could be potentially harmful to humans."

" _That's…not good_."

"No shit."

Nathan's voice was almost a whine in an attempt to regain her favor. " _What can I do to help? You know I'd do anything for you, Valerie. Anything at_ —"

Something snapped within her. "—Look, you want to impress me? Find my freakin' gun. I don't care how, just track it down."

" _Uh, y-yes! Anything you say, Valerie_." A new energy came into his voice. " _I won't let you down. I'll find the gun. I'll win your love! I'll—!_ "

She hung up quickly, feeling ill just listening to him and his passionate fervor. A small part of her felt guilty that she was manipulating Nathan in exchange for a favor. "I'm probably going to regret this," she breathed uneasily.

And then a sudden, new fear creeped through her. _Wait a minute._ A potentially harmful weapon had gone missing the day that Dan Phantom waltzed into the resistance. _Wait a minute._ If Dan Phantom had knocked out the whole of the resistance's security against him, then he had potential unimpeded access to even the high security clearance areas. Like the storage and arsenal.

She'd never seen him carry a weapon before, but if for some reason he had re-strategized—just as he had silently learned advanced hacking techniques and could have accessed the arsenal—then what made this any different?

Had he snuck off in the night while she'd been asleep, taking advantage of her trust? And what did the gun do that he would want it so much?

A sinking, sick feeling overcame her—and she suddenly felt as if she were a small child. An idiot who allowed a wolf into a hen house.

* * *

A few hours passed in worry distraction over her reports. Did she go confront Dan, or try to search for the gun around him while he was sleeping? Or was it best to…let him sleep and pretend everything was okay?

Valerie even began to wonder if perhaps Dan had created only a clone of a body sleeping on the floor, and that he had in fact tricked her and had been trailing her all day and laughing silently. Damn that none of her gear worked on him. It would have almost been worth it to shut down the Shield and reactivate it to get rid of his virus—but then he had made claims about an army waiting for the instant the Shield went down…

Even if he were lying about the army, it likely wasn't worth the risk to confront him about the gun. She'd lose the strange, calm environment between them. And she had an advantage on him now. Knowledge on his plan. Something she could leverage against him, if she played her cards right.

As she made her way to the cafeteria for breakfast, she mourned her life. "Everything's gotta be so complicated," she muttered in complaint, grabbing a tray and some silverware. It felt odd to go through the breakfast line without him. The cafeteria lady, Margie, mother-henned her about it.

"Where's that sleek-looking man of yours at?" Margie wondered, plating her up with some oatmeal.

"Asleep," Valerie deadpanned.

Margie blinked. It was simply bad form to sleep in past 8:00 in the resistance. "Still?" she asked incredulously. "What on earth did you do to him?"

At the underlying innuendo, Valerie grew defensive. "What do you mean?"

The old lady grew a bit mischievous. "It would take an awful lot to wear that man out." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "He's probably not used to rolling around with the Red Huntress, huh? How many times did you do it last night?"

Valerie's face flamed up, and she stood there, gaping. "What the—?" she stumbled for words. "The hell, Margie?"

"Oh, I know, dear. I'm just teasing." Margie gave her a motherly look. "But really, why aren't you two attached at the hip today?"

She slid her eyes away. "He's probably…just tired from the long trip here," she muttered out a lie. Her face was still blushed with the underlying suggestion of attached at the hip—the saying just didn't work right for this kind of situation. Margie probably knew that.

"Well, don't let him sleep in forever. He'll miss lunch. And then I'll miss looking at him. And you'll be miserable because Nathan will be here to bug you—and we can't have that."

"I can protect myself, you know," Valerie said, jaw setting.

"Oh, I know you can," the old lady nodded. "But dear, you _don't_. Not when it comes to Nathan."

The young woman turned away in a huff, cheeks flared in a blush. "There's not a lot I can do," she muttered. "Without hurting something on him."

Margie laughed a bit. "In this case, dear, I think he deserves it."

Just then, her comm buzzed with an incoming call. Worrying that perhaps it was an urgent alert to stop Dan Phantom from inside the resistance, she pushed the button and took the call. "This is Commander Gray."

" _Valerie_?" Nathan's voice was rushed and breathless. " _I found your gun. I forgot—I sent it off to Research and Development. They're testing it now to log its capabilities and hazard potential, since it's unknown tech. You'll have it back in a couple of days_."

Suddenly, Valerie felt foolish and paranoid. She rubbed her temples. "… _What_?"

" _I said, I found_ —"

"—No, I heard that part. You mean to tell me _you forgot_ that you moved it?"

"… _Yes?_ "

She almost wanted to laugh or cry. If Nathan had sent it to R&D, then Dan didn't steal away into the storage and arsenal to take it. Which meant Dan was innocent of everything she'd thought to accuse him of. Which meant she'd worried for nothing. "If you'd just… _freakin' remembered the first time_ , you could have saved me a heart attack here."

" _But I found it_ ," he stressed. " _Valerie, I want to impress you. Anything to make your life easier_."

She wanted to punch something. "I'm not impressed. You're making my life more difficult."

" _Valerie, you know I love_ —"

She hung up, feeling worn and distant from herself. "Oh, man." She looked at Margie, who had leaned in to listen to the call.

"Is he calling you _again_?" the woman asked in disbelief. "I thought he couldn't because the restraining order?"

Valerie turned away. "I thought there was an emergency worth contacting him for." She did not mention that the restraining order she'd attempted to file had been dropped by the courts. "Thanks for the oatmeal, Margie."

And as she walked away, her suspicions that Dan was a culprit suddenly gave way to the greater fear that Nathan had orchestrated the whole mix-up just to talk to her. And she'd fallen for it, just as she always did.

_Dammit._

To avoid potential run-ins with Nathan, Valerie took up her old tradition of eating breakfast inside her office. It was cold and quiet, and the book Dan had been reading— _Crime and Punishment_ —was still lying on her desk. A reminder that yesterday had not been a dream, and that the Ravager of Worlds was still likely sleeping away in her bedroom, half-naked and twisted in her sheets. Which was weird and terrifying and kinda hot.

She hid her face in her hands and groaned pathetically. "Make it stop."

But no matter how many files she read through, Dan didn't meander into her office as she half-expected him to do, with a lazy declaration that he had not enjoyed sleep for years and that he'd sneaked onto her bed to maximize his "human experience." Something dropped into her stomach at the thought of a half-awake Dan stealing away into her bed. Leaving his male scent upon her pillow. Yes, that's probably what he was doing—desecrating the sacred space of her bed. With himself.

It wasn't until a few hours later that Paulina burst through her office door in a huff of perfume and beautiful curls. "Chica," she whined. "Where's D? He's supposed to be romancing you, and I don't see him anywhere."

"He's still asleep," Valerie said, not looking up from her report.

"It's like…noon." Paulina's lips pursed.

"Yep."

"What did you _do_?" Paulina wondered, looking over Valerie in curiosity. "Is your boy toy still even breathing?"

"I'm sure he's still breathing," she lied. Dan didn't have to breathe. "He's just…sleeping in."

"Then go wake him up," Paulina complained. "The world's ended, and we could all die today. He doesn't have time to sleep in."

The Red Huntress almost wanted to laugh at the woman's ignorance, but that did not stop the inner flutter of fear within her. She'd been subconsciously avoiding her room because she would have to finally interact with Dan again, who was shirtless and full of innuendoes and dangerous—and she had silently accused him of a plot that had actually been the result of Nathan. She wondered how he would react if he knew Nathan had played her, and that she'd fallen for it….what he would do if he discovered she'd immediately blamed him for Nathan's mistake…

It was probably best to hide those fears.

Paulina pressed again, "Chica, you're overthinking something. Stop it. Are you avoiding D because you're afraid of a real relationship?"

She groaned. "I'm not overthinking. And I'm not avoiding him because of that." She stood up and swept her files back into her desk. "Look, you happy? I'm gonna go wake him up. Okay?"

Paulina rolled her eyes lovingly. "You make it sound like a bad thing."

"…I'll let you know if it is."

"Is he not a morning person?"

Valerie muttered, "I'm not sure he's even a _person_."

* * *

In short order, the Red Huntress tentatively opened up the door to her room, half-expecting Dan to have gone insane and destroyed it, waiting in the mess to make her miserable. But instead, the walls looked clean and untouched. The room was simply cold from Dan's presence, the effects of his smoking from the previous night entirely worn away.

Her sculpted eyebrows furrowed, and she quietly shut the door behind her. An unmoving body was still lying on the floor, which was likely a good thing. The closer she got, the more she realized Dan's hair was still impossibly tangled about the pillow and his hand, strands sticking every which way in a knotted web, his chest still rising and falling in an even breath. She felt an odd smile creep across her face. The great and powerful Dan Phantom. Reduced to a bed slob.

What delightful information for blackmail.

With her foot, she gently nudged the elbow slung across his eyes. "Hey," she said. "You should probably get up."

Dan hardly responded but for a mindless grump. He seemed to almost sink himself deeper into the blankets. In the light pouring in from her window, she could see the defined lines of his naked torso and the careless way his jeans seemed to angle off his hips. She blushed a bit, looking back up at his face. Really, anywhere else was dangerous.

She nudged him again. "Come on, seriously. People are wondering if you're dead or something, and I don't wanna tell them the truth."

An irritated exhale escaped him, and he pulled his arm away from his eyes to glare at her. "What do you want?" he said, voice cracked with sleep.

She crossed her arms as she stared down at him. "It's noon, sleeping beauty," she said.

Suddenly, the bleary calm in his eyes tightened with awareness, panic, and anger. "What?" he snapped. He moved to sit up, only for the ectoplasm in his body to not surge to his brain. He fell back with a groan, covering his face. "The hell."

She leaned against the wall, looking smug. "I never would have thought that you'd be a lazy bum, given the chance. If I'd known you could be snowed over by blankets and twelve hours of sleep, I would have invited you here a long time ago."

But now that she thought about it, the original Danny Fenton had always been something of a naturally lazy person. It wasn't until he became a half-ghost that any semblance of responsibility entered his life. Fascinating that Dan Phantom appeared to carry some of those tendencies when he wasn't hell-bent on destruction.

He cracked open one bleary, blue eye. The grumpy expression on his face slid into something mischievous. "Invited me here, huh?"

She raised a brow. "Your ghost temp is back," she said, ignoring his suggestion.

"Then get down here and warm me up," he said, smiling cheekily as he stretched out.

Valerie rolled her eyes and nudged his side with the steel toe of her combat boot. "Go smoke or get a shower or something."

"Hmm. Public showers would be more attractive if it were with you."

Her face set in a strange way, and she stood a bit straighter. "No."

An evil, sneaky smile stretched his lips too wide. "Now that's just too bad." Something about him looked more content, his eyes less suspicious, the lines of his face relaxed. He sat up in a lazy way, running his hand through his tangled hair. And then he stretched again, the actions of which were all was so domestic. "I'd heat up much faster with your assistance."

Valerie deadpanned, "Don't be ridiculous."

He gracefully stood up, and she became painfully aware that he still wore nothing but his jeans, and that the frame of her own body fit nicely within his. Those devilish, blue eyes glinted. "And you curled your hair," he commented. His long fingers twisted into one of the side ringlets that framed her face. "For me?"

"No." She smacked away his hand.

He smiled. "You're a terrible liar."

"I'm not lying," she said, tone rising with defense.

The disguised ghost leaned in. "You _did_ curl your hair for me," he declared. His wandering hand twirled one of her curls. "And you _don't_ want me to stop."

She moved to push him away, but her hands pressed against his bare chest and seemed to stop there. The pale, human flesh, the barest dusting of dark hair, the natural configuration of his muscles—none of it hid the reality that the skin beneath her hand was silent and still without a pulse.

That he had no heart.

Dan's false-blue eyes seemed to darken as he pulled away to look at her. His hand slipped from her hair to cover her warm hand, intertwining their fingers, and he felt the tendons of her hand twitch instinctively beneath his touch.

"Searching for a heartbeat?" he hummed, although his voice was turned with displeasure.

"I know you don't have one," she scoffed.

He closed his eyes, almost in frustration. "You're just looking in the wrong place." Then he began to lower her hand. The action was intimate, and he felt her fingers tense as they ran down the hard lines of his flesh.

At a juncture beneath his heart, just skewed and off-kilter from normal human anatomy-there was a hum of sorts, a type of alien vibration. His power core.

He pressed her hand a bit deeper against his skin. "There."

Valerie swallowed hard. She almost pulled away at the pure level of intimacy. A ghost's power core was their seat of power, and she could feel it within him. A low, emanating vibration seemed to animate him, buzzing into her fingertips. She hesitated for a second in awe."…Why are you showing me this?"

He opened his eyes, and his gaze was serious. "You judge me by human standards, and yet you do not seem to understand that I am not human. I want you to know the difference so you will not make the same error again." His hand slipped from hers.

The woman fell very silent, caught between snatching her hand away and actively experiencing the vibration of his life force, but she could not move away, and she couldn't look away from his face. "Y-you just want me to touch you with your shirt off," she said, voice strangled with emotion.

"I would never be against that."

"…Yeah, you wouldn't." But she still didn't pull away. She had a feeling this all meant much more than a simple comparison between human and ghost anatomy. Damn his love for metaphor.

The power of the infamous Dan Phantom almost seemed to pulse at her touch. "This is as close as I can get," he said. "The most human I could ever be again."

His gaze was too heavy. It made her feel closed in suddenly. "I know," she whispered.

Now that he was fully awake, his power core was exerting more energy. "And you are not disturbed by what I really am?" he asked, carefully maintaining an even tone.

And still she didn't pull away. Her skin goose bumped at the increasing coldness around them. "Not anymore."

It felt silent between them, the weight of Valerie's admittance hanging in the air. Dan's face tightened with desire—the thought that Valerie did not despise him for what he was. "Why?" he demanded softly. "You are disgusted by ghosts, and you abhor evil, but I am both. Do you feel desire for me simply because I am the remains of Danny Fenton?"

Valerie's fingers ran down the front of his chest, still amazed by the detail of his illusion over the natural lines of his body—and that he would want her to touch him in such a way. It'd taken too many strange events to twist Dan into who he was, and too many events of the same to make her who she was. Their attraction was no longer about the past, and so she said playfully, "I don't know; I kinda miss the flaming white hair and the fangs."

His eyes darkened for her. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. She opened her mouth to him, and the next thing she knew, his hands were bunching into her hair, cradling her neck. It was a slow and sweet kiss.

Pressed against his bare skin, she could feel his power core rev up at their kiss—the way a heart would race. It meant that she was affecting him. That she could do things to him he couldn't control. The thought would have been more fascinating, but she was too busy enjoying the feeling of it and the twitch of his bare muscles against her fingers.

All too soon, Dan pulled away with great reluctance. He looked excessively more awake than he did before. "Hmm," he breathed, the cool of his breath like a winter wind against her face. "I could get addicted to this."

In truth, Valerie could too. "As long as you keep killing people," she said against his lips, her voice soft with warning, "don't even think about addiction."

His fingertips ghosted along her neck softly. "Too late."

And then he pulled away to grab his shirt off of the floor, and Valerie felt oddly cold at the loss of his touch.

As Dan dressed, pulling on his jacket, he turned back to her. "Valerie." His voice was deep with some kind of desire.

Her heart pounded a little bit more at the sound of her name from his mouth. "Yeah?"

"…Is the cafeteria still serving bacon?"

* * *

Valerie Gray appeared outside in the snow of late February with her boyfriend, D. The roads from the resistance to the main part of Amity Park were abandoned and coated in white snow, tanks and military grade vehicles resting peacefully in the banks.

Although she was bundled up in a hat and a civilian coat, Dan looked entirely comfortable with only his leather jacket, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, smoke trailing behind him. His messy hair was carelessly tossed in a signature low ponytail, and Valerie wanted to damn him for looking so good with such little effort.

"Bacon?" she complained again. Her warm breath billowed into the air as her boots crunched the snow on the ground. The snowstorm from the previous day had stopped, and all was silent. "Out of all things in the cafeteria today, you're making me trek outside to get you bacon?"

"It's the food of the gods," he said airily, blowing out a stream of white smoke from his lips. In that moment, he almost looked warm and human. "As I am a god, it is the perfect food for me."

She shoved her elbow into his side. "You're not a god. If I didn't wake you up, you'd probably still be sleeping away your afterlife."

"I would have woken up even more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed than I already am." He breathed in another puff of the cigarette, which was still quite a jarring image for Valerie to handle. Along with everything else.

She tried to wave off the whole thing, playfully narrowing her eyes. "Seriously, you slept over twelve hours. What the hell is that about?"

He hummed noncommittally. "Illusions are draining. As we are in a nonviolence pact for now, your bedroom was a perfect chance to rejuvenate my reserves through a more traditional means."

"Well, if you keep sleeping like that, I'll have to call you Rip Van Dan. Because twelve hours is ridiculous."

"…Rip Van Dan?" He paused for a second, then chuckled, his blue eyes turning to her. "Are you attempting to seduce me through literary references?"

"No," she said flatly. "Just warning you that you're about to get a nickname."

"Well, that's a pity," he said. "Because I feel seduced by your use of literature. Do associate further classical works to our lives in any way possible. If I cannot ravage the countryside in a fit of rage, then I require compensatory mental stimulation, which only you seem capable of providing." He dragged on the cigarette again. "Among other kinds of stimulation."

Valerie's face twisted in a blush, and she looked around to see if anyone were listening. "Stop that. We're out in public."

"Stop what?" he asked innocently, turning to her. "The other kinds of stimulation? Valerie dear, that would require you to stop being attractive."

The underhanded compliment, and odd honesty, made her face turn red. "Don't try to butter me up. You just said I'm a distraction from death."

He hummed. "You're human. Everything about you is always dying, or did you forget your own mortality?" He breathed in on his cigarette, then exhaled. "No, I do not look to you for a distraction from death."

"Then why the hell are you here, doing all this?" she pressed, shoving her hands in her coat pockets. Maybe it was time to level-set. "You say you got a mental investment in me. But I think you're just looking to fuck me for some kind of high while you destroy the place. Come on, be honest here."

His eyebrows flew up in mild surprise at the level of strain in her voice. He paused for a second, then cast his cigarette to the snowy ground. " _That_ is why you resist me?"

"You're littering again," she said flatly.

"Forget the littering." Dan stopped walking and grabbed onto her arm to stop her as well. He leaned towards her, his irritated voice low for her ears only, even though they were the only ones on the road. "Let's get a few things straight. You know I hold no love for Amity Park, so it should be no surprise that I still intend to destroy it at some point." They were nose to nose now. He seemed frustrated. "And I don't associate the word _fuck_ with you. It's a word for the lowest, most mindless form of consensual sex. If I wanted such release, I could fuck anyone I wanted." His voice dropped into an intimate, amused tone. "But I'd rather make love to you, Valerie."

Her face flamed in a blush, and she felt her stomach drop into fire. "You probably read that line out of a book," she challenged, her voice wavering. "Who'd you steal it from this time? Shakespeare?"

His thin lips stretched, too dark and wry to be genuine humor. "Are you accusing me now of plagiarism or false testimony?"

Valerie, not being one for emotion or for admitting that she had any beyond anger and irritation, pushed away from him. "You said in the beginning this was all just to maximize my time fighting you instead of hiding from Nathan."

"Of course. I did not lie."

"Then your own reasons don't make sense," she snapped. "You talk about deep love now, but you started off with fighting. Don't manipulate me."

He raised a brow. "It quite depends on your definition of 'fighting,' does it not? Each has a tension, a push and pull. A battle of tongues." Then he leaned in, eyes lit in dreadful desire. "Sweat and blood."

She pulled away again, feeling her body heat oddly. _Oh, man_. She had a sudden image of them and a bed and her nails digging into his bare back as she gasped and as he—

Valerie squished the thought. "You know what, just stop, okay? You're crazy. You take everything too far and—"

"—Is it so bad that I want to deepen our physical bond to match our mental one?" he interrupted. "I want your time. All of it. In any way I can get it."

"Why?" she demanded.

He looked genuinely frustrated now. "Do you not understand? The lifespan of humans is nonexistent under this shield. You'll be dead in a few decades, and I will have to endure with only memories of you." He moved away. Something about him looked raw as he said, voice straining oddly, "You think this is play, but this is investment in the time we have left."

Valerie swallowed hard. She looked away, then continued walking forward, feeling cold with the realization of her own future death—and his continuing existence. "…Your eternity isn't my problem."

The ghost paused at that. For a time, he seemed almost surprised by her brutal honesty. And then his face twisted with irritation. "It wouldn't be, would it."

She heard the double-edge, and she stomped forward to eye him hard in anger. "You tryin' to pull a guilt trip on me? Make me feel bad that you'll live forever without adding me to the notches on your bed post, huh?" She poked his chest. "If all you want is my time, then why are you trying so damn hard to get something more?"

His face twitched. He pulled away with a frustrated inhale, and he rummaged into his jacket pocket for another cigarette and his lighter. "And if all you want is to destroy me," he demanded, "then why are you trying so damn hard to make me fit your morality?" He lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, re-pocketing the lighter. His frustration was revving up his power core in a way that was icing the air around him—an impressive feat for late February. "Answer my question, and you will know the answer to your own."

"They're totally different questions!" she hissed in frustration. "And you know it!"

He leaned in, his lit cigarette hanging from his lips. "Are you so sure?"

She shoved her gloved hands back into her coat pockets and looked down at the ground. And for time, they fell silent. But Dan was less angry and more fascinated by the strange creature that was Valerie Gray in her natural habitat. There was no one more simultaneously simple and complex than she was.

He supposed that was why he could simultaneously feel great irritation and attraction towards her...

Eventually, he said, "Valerie. You continue to push away my attempts to connect with you. As our physical attraction at least is undeniable, would you prefer I pursued you only for the physical?"

Her face bloomed in a blush again. "It's not that, it's—this is a trust thing, okay? I don't know if I trust you. And you still wanting to kill people doesn't make me any more convinced."

He stopped. Then he scoffed, "I am walking the pot-hole ridden roads of Amity Park, and no one is dead. I dived for you when I thought you were falling off your jet sled without your gear. I stopped attacking Jasper City on your request." He pointed an accusing finger at her. "You are manipulating this relationship into an exchange. If you cannot accept that I would protect you from death as a sign of trust, then what more do you need?"

She rubbed her temples. "I need time," she said. "A lot of time. We're supposed to be enemies, you know. This is complicated."

If she were to honestly get…involved with him beyond flirtation and free kisses, it could potentially mean the end of Defense Commander Valerie Gray. Too many compromises. A failure to protect her people. She needed more time to level the playing field. To tame the beast within him.

His dark brow raised a bit. "Time is your most precious resource, and my most abundant one. Are you sure that is what you want to waste?"

Her eyes hardened. "Don't manipulate this relationship into an exchange," she mocked.

A huff of a chuckle escaped him. He grabbed onto her hand and squeezed. "Very well."

In the cold February air, his hand almost seemed to seep warmth through her gloves, as if he were the spring before a summer. Valerie gripped his hand back and tilted her head towards the tall, metallic skyscrapers, thankful that Dan was dropping the discussion. She thought that perhaps getting him back onto to thinking about bacon would be a good idea. "The mall's up there. They have a diner that serves breakfast all day."

Dan looked interested. "All day?"

"Yes, all day."

"With unlimited bacon access?"

She gave him an odd look. "There's no such thing as unlimited bacon. We're stretched thin enough as it is, but we'll be able to order some for you." She added innocently, "Just think, if you continue to target places like Jasper, all the humans who make bacon will die."

Dan paused for a moment. For the first time in his afterlife, he actually looked thoughtful. "I did not foresee that complication." He muttered under his breath, thinking aloud, "My plans were initially to decimate the human race. But if it can offer worthwhile services to me…."

Valerie looked at him in surprise.

The gears in Dan's head turned for a while, calculating. He gazed at the wide space that was the hum of life in Amity Park—and he suddenly saw potential resources worth more than the minor irritation he felt at their existence.

"I'll have to reroute my usual attack schedule so that I off only the pointless humans," he declared. "And then enslave the useful ones to our will. Such as those who make bacon."

Valerie sighed. _And this is an improvement?_ "You can't just enslave people. And you can't just kill people because you think they're pointless."

Dan rolled his eyes and then complained, "You destroy ghosts you think are pointless. You even enslaved that one boy—Kwan, was it?—to your will in high school."

"Oh, come on. I haven't destroyed ghosts in a long time. Compared to you, all the rest are just pranksters." Her voice strangled. "And for the record, I didn't enslave Kwan, okay? It was an A-lister perk to have a dude beat up anyone for me, and it was wrong."

He leaned forward in interest. "The infamous Valerie Gray, admitting she was wrong?"

"…Shut up."

* * *

Soon enough, Valerie and Dan were walking through the mall, a carryout box piled with bacon in Dan's hands as he munched happily. Valerie was exasperated with him and fascinated as well. He'd patiently waited like a good evil villain while she'd requested several orders of bacon for him. He hadn't even snapped at the worker who'd taken their order.

"Mmm," he moaned. "This is even higher quality than before."

"It's a restaurant, not a military cafeteria." She muttered, "Considering what I paid for it, it better be higher quality."

The mall was a flurry of activity, with children running, couples walking, friends laughing. Dan barely gave the other humans a glance, as if passively acknowledging that they were not worth his attention. Most of them, he did not recognize from his past. "There are more people here than I remember," he commented offhandedly.

Valerie tried to keep her voice level. "We're a stable city, so we attract a lot of refugees." A few of the people passing by recognized her, and they saluted or waved at her. She waved back. "A lot's changed since you were…last here."

Dan watched how the other people seemed to radiate respect towards Valerie, of their own free will. "You've trained the insects to acknowledge you as superior?"

She raised her chin. "I am not superior. And I didn't ask them to respect me."

The disguised ghost seemed to ponder on that. "You do not have to demand their compliance?" He grew quite interested. "What inspires them, then?"

"Maybe you should ask them sometime," she said. She knew exactly why many of the civilians waved at her, but she did not want to brag on herself or alternatively destroy the relatively happy air between her and Dan. He would likely close off in disgruntled silence if he were to feel threatened by morality again.

As they walked along, an odd thought hit him, and he stopped in front of a men's department store, the sleek metallic lights shining down upon him. "Am I still beholden to wearing pants while I sleep in your room?"

"…Yes?" she said. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He shoved his carryout box of bacon at Valerie, who frozen in surprise.

"What the—?" she trailed off. He began to wander off into the men's store, and Valerie panicked. "Dammit, don't just walk away!"

Dan waved off her concern. "Now that I know this wretched mall can provide it, I demand proper sleepwear," he said unashamedly. "These jeans chafe at night, so you are going to buy me clothes since you won't let me in your room without them."

Valerie hurried after him, eyes wide with a growing blush. "What?" Her heart pounded. She looked around and paled. "Dammit, this is the expensive store! And why the hell do I have to pay for you? You should have thought about bringing more clothes when you came here!"

"You should have thought about my comfort when you made me sleep in work clothes on the floor," he retorted.

"…I've rammed you into _concrete_ before and you didn't whine about it," she retaliated, teal eyes narrowing. "Come on, I don't have the money for this. And you already owe me for the bacon."

"Your concept of monetary value means nothing to me." He ran his hand down a rack of shirts. "And you're a woman. You don't understand this kind of chafing."

Her blush deepened again. "Chafing? You wanna talk chafing? Try wearing high heels or a bra with the wire stabbing you death. Then we'll talk."

He hummed, his eyes sliding to her. "Hmm. I'd hate for you to be stabbed to death by your own underwear. I can assist you quite well with removing such contraptions."

Her face twitched. "Oh wow, how selfless of you."

"I know." He stopped before a shelf of jeans, and he listlessly looked around, disappointed at the lack of logical arrangement in the store. He puzzled in thought, calculating, and he muttered, "If I am intending to stay with you for some time, perhaps I should invest in things other than just sleep pants…"

Valerie, feeling irritated and worried, popped open Dan's carryout box of bacon and grabbed a piece. "You better have a credit card or something, cause I can't even afford the pants here." She munched on the still-warm piece, staring at the prices along the walls with wide eyes. "I can't believe _you_ are dragging me on a shopping trip. This is the kind of shit Paulina pulls on me, you know."

He raised his chin with a superior haughtiness. "Your stalker has shown signs of persistence despite my presence, and for that I must extend my stay with you to ensure his defeat." He waved his hand at the clothes. "This is an investment to maintain my illusion."

"I thought you just wanted sleep pants," she complained. "The whole chafing thing."

"That too." He began to grab a pair jeans off the shelves, blue eyes narrowed in distain and concentration. "Honestly, Valerie. You have no idea what I'm putting up with in the name of saving you. Be thankful I am not resulting to murder, since you care _so much_ about other people. Unless you prefer I murder Nathan?"

* * *

The dressing rooms of the high-end department store were well lit and crisp with the scent of high prices. Valerie paced outside of Dan's dressing room, munching on another piece of bacon.

"I can't afford this store," she said, staring at the price tags of the clothes on an extra rack. "This is ridiculous. Who the hell pays two hundred dollars for jeans?"

"You paid hundreds of dollars for a shirt once," he said, his baritone voice echoing with pointed accusation. The rustle of clothes swept up his body, alongside a zipping sound.

Her face faulted. "Those pants better not fit," she called out in warning, voice muffled as she chewed on a piece of bacon. "Cause we're not getting them."

Without warning, an intangible hand grabbed onto her arm and forcibly phased her through the door of the changing room. She squeaked, eyes wide as the world seemed to cave in around her into the grain of wood, then opened up into soft lights and the amused face of one human Dan Phantom.

"But sweetheart," he mocked, "these pants are actually comfortable."

Her heart pounded as she leaned against the wall, clinging hard to it and to the bacon carryout box in her arms, trying to catch her breath. She'd never gone intangible before. It had made her feel cold and unstable against solid things. "Holy _shit_. Don't ever do that again," she said, voice tight. She turned wide eyes to him. "Did anybody just see that? Are you crazy?"

"It's a dressing room," he shrugged. "There's no cameras here. And we're the only ones around, if case you haven't noticed."

As she schooled her breathing back into a normal rhythm, she gave him a dark look.

The jeans he wore now were darker in color and better fitted to his body than the ones he'd been wearing. The new shirt was a dark maroon, and Valerie realized Dan looked quite attractive in red.

She blushed. She was inside a dressing room in a men's department store. With a man. "What the hell did you do this for?" she demanded, voice low. "I'm not supposed to be in here!"

His lips stretched in great satisfaction. "I know." He grabbed the box of bacon from her and set it down on the seat beside them. "But it was the only place in public that I knew we could do this without calling much attention."

She blinked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Do what?"

Dan leaned in. "This." Then he kissed her, his hands moving to her waist.

Valerie responded with a muffled noise of surprise, only to lean into his kiss. His familiar scent swept around her, and she nearly forgot to push him away. "Bad idea," she warned, even though her heart was pounding from his touch. There was something thrilling about doing things with him in public.

He pressed her between himself and the wall, feeling the heat of her body radiate against him. He whispered against her lips, teasing her with feather touches, "I believe there's a saying. Friends close, enemies closer?"

"This is too close," she whispered back.

In response, he kissed her hard, solidly holding her to him. "Not close enough," he breathed heavily, kissing her again. He opened his mouth to hers. Suddenly, Valerie began to hold onto him tighter against her better judgment, her moan of desire and anger softly rumbling their lips together. He could feel her want in her fingers and the way her tongue slid against his.

This was all a sort of war, in a way. A battle for dominance. He'd appreciate the concept more if he weren't so busy appreciating Valerie.

When she pulled away, Valerie was breathing hard, her eyes dilated with lust. "I hate you," she said. Her normally rasped and harsh voice had softened with desire. "So much."

"If this is hate," he hummed, "then I hate you more." And he nuzzled his nose against her neck, breathing in deep her scent. He could feel her racing heart and her breathless huff of annoyance, then the way her lithe fingers came to rest on the back of his neck, as if to hold him there.

He kissed the skin of her neck in a teasing nip, and she instinctively leaned her head back to feel him more. "Really hate," she said, but her voice wavered with a shake. She wanted him to kiss her lower than just her neck, and the thought made her skin flame hot. She tightened her fingers into the free locks of his hair.

His lips stretched into a smirk against her skin. "Oh, I feel the hate."

The shake in Valerie's fingers, the racing of her heart, the flush in her dark skin, made Dan realize that he'd done this to her. These reactions were for him, and him alone. That he could inspire this side of Valerie—it made his dead heart swell with strange emotions.

"I can't trust you," she breathed unsteadily. "Like this. I shouldn't."

He moaned against her skin. "I would swear blood oaths that I have no intention of harming you." He suddenly felt willing to do anything if she asked it. His hands dropped lower, bunching into the sides of her pants, feeling the curve of her hips. "Give me a chance, Val."

This was all suddenly becoming too intimate, too personal. Valerie began to hesitate again, stiffening. "I can't."

He pulled away to eye her straight, fully pained. "Then why tease us like this?" he demanded with his voice husked by desire. "Why allow me even this much?"

Valerie closed her eyes, as if to hide from his searching gaze. "I don't know," she said shakily. Her heart was still racing. "It's wrong."

"…By whose standards?" he asked, and he leaned in to kiss her again, but she turned her cheek.

"Dan," she said. Her voice hardened against him. "I'm serious."

"No, you're afraid again," he pulled away from her, disappointed. His mouth was set in an angry line. "That's what this is. Fear."

"Well, what did you expect?" She looked greatly pained. "You really expect me to just give in to you?" She crossed her arms to hide the goosebumps she felt across her body at the thought. "To let you ruin my life more than you already have?"

A darkness sparked in his eyes. "Ruin your life?" He scoffed. "Without me, you would have been a stupid bimbo sucking off a trophy husband for cash. I'd say I saved your life. From pointlessness."

Her nose scrunched. "Oh, you did not just go there!" she hissed, fury rising against him.

Her indignant anger—the way it flamed her face red and made her jaw set—was enough to amuse Dan out of his own irritation. Truly, he enjoyed making her angry. He smiled. "You'd probably still have all that baby fat too," he hummed, patting her cheek.

She flinched away, suddenly falling deep into self-consciousness and a red blush. For a time, she was completely speechless, staring in shock.

"Let's face it," he said seriously, "I had to become what I am to save you from yourself. And here you are, worrying about jumping in bed with the only man with your best interests at heart. How contradictory."

"That is such bullshit," she hissed, her voice still strangled. "Are you even listening to yourself?"

He leaned forward. "Don't worry," he whispered in the scant inches between them, "I'd sacrifice myself again to wake you up."

She scoffed to hide how embarrassed and raw she felt before him. How was it that Dan made her want to slap him and kiss him at the same time? "You didn't do me any favors," she whispered hotly. "You killed billions of people. And you're gonna pay for that baby fat comment."

He leaned in closer, waggling his eyebrows. "Do you have any specific punishments in mind?"

Her eye twitched. "As a matter of fact," she said, tilting her head up so that her lips nearly brushed his, "I do."

She did not know who kissed whom first, but next thing she knew, she had him pinned between herself and the room's mirror.

"Say anything about my baby fat days again," she whispered against his lips, running her fingers down his muscled chest, "and I'll tell everyone that Dan Phantom still wears boxers with little hearts on them."

Suddenly, Dan's eyes widened the slightest fraction, and he paused far too long. A small blush weaved across his cheeks despite his attempts to suppress it.

Valerie stopped and blinked at his strange reaction. Then she pulled away in great interest. "Wait. Do you really?"

He paused far too long, trying to weigh the consequences of answering either way.

The silence told the truth.

Valerie was able to keep a straight face for a few seconds. And then she burst out laughing, her heart light with triumph at besting Dan Phantom with a bluff about his boxers. "You do!" she accused.

He flushed hotly. "I do not," he hissed. But the uncertainty on his face made her want to see Dan admit the truth.

In a sudden wave of confidence, Valerie pulled at the side hem of his jeans, grabbed at the material beneath, and pulled up. The hem was red with distinct, white hearts cutting across them.

She raised a brow. "You don't, huh?" Biting her lip to suppress her laugh, she released the hem of his boxers, her fingers still tingling with the cool of his bare skin. "Well, well. Bet you didn't think that through today."

Dan almost seemed to sputter. The human skin of his face was tinged red, and whatever suave darkness typically emanated from him had faltered into something far less dangerous. "You just manhandled me." He looked quite shocked.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," she said, amused voice dropping into something sensual, her teal eyes staring up into his. "You manhandled me through the door."

"So this is payback, then."

"Something like that." She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "But at least I like the heart boxers."

The thought was an odd one. His face twisted. "You are a horrific tease," he said, pouting as he readjusted the hem of his jeans. "Kissing me and sticking your hand down my pants, only to tell me no and then manipulate me into forgiving you. You're evil."

Valerie's expression grew a bit too wicked. "You love it," she mocked.

His expression shadowed with desire and amusement, even as his face was still flushed with an odd blush. His calloused fingers brushed across her cheek. "I do hate you sometimes."

His touch was soft, loving. Valerie wanted to feel more of it.

"Oh, I can feel the hate," she said, leaning into his touch with a snarky quirk of her brow.

For a time, there was some kind of impasse between them. The atmosphere had changed around them in a comfortable way that could not be undone.

And then a salesperson knocked on the door. "Umm, excuse me?" the man asked, voice uncertain and a bit disgusted. "This is a department store? Can you two…get a room if you're gonna bang each other?"

Valerie snapped to in sudden panic. She slapped her hand over Dan's mouth and laughed nervously. "Uh, we're not—uh…He just got stuck! In his clothes—they were too tight. Can you get us the next size up?"

A cold tongue swept across her palm, and she nearly squeaked, instinctively snatching back her hand and staring at her wet palm in disgust. Dan's lips stretched into a naughty smile as she wiped her hand down his arm.

The salesperson on the other side of the door did not seem amused. "And what size do you need?" he asked, voice dull.

"Don't mind her," Dan called out cheerfully, an undertow of trouble in his voice. "I like it when she has to undress me."

Valerie's voice was a tight, embarrassed snap, even as she face-palmed. "Oh my god."

From beyond the door, the sales person gawked and stepped away from the dressing room where a couple was most certainly breaking a public decency policy of the store. He wondered if he were somehow being trolled, and so he backed away slowly, face twisted. "Uh, I'm gonna leave now…and pretend this never happened…"

And the salesman scurried off in a hurry, wheeling out a rack of clothes, leaving Dan and Valerie in the silence of each other. Which slowly became more tense, as Valerie's face was a stone-cold mask of pure disapproval. "...You _licked_ me," she accused.

He waggled his eyebrows, his baby blue eyes glinting something devilish. "I could do more."

Her mind immediately fell into the gutter, where it got hopelessly lost in the concept of Dan and bedrooms yet again. "Uh, no. Absolutely not."

Dan gave her an odd look, quirking a brow. "Even if I'm wearing boxers with hearts on them?"

"Even then."

"That's just cold."

"Well, so are you."

He leaned in anyway, his face hovering inches away from hers. "Am I?" he asked her, his voice too even and calm. "To you, am I?"

Valerie suddenly had a distinct feeling that he was challenging her in a metaphorical sense. That the meaning of _cold_ suddenly had exploded into too many things. "Hell yes," she said defensively, backing away from him to gain some time. "You're freezing."

He grabbed onto her hand and held it tightly. His fingers were cool, not unpleasantly so, but they goose-bumped her skin. He whispered to her so that only she would hear, "Is it so bad?"

The intensity of his gaze made her falter, and she began to blush, even though she didn't entirely understand why. "You're crazy," she whispered. "All your double speak and metaphors and shit, making everything so freakin' difficult."

A dark and amused smile stretched his lips. "You know you love it."

"I hate it," she corrected him.

And then he captured her lips with his again, and Valerie forgot again that this man wasn't human and that he wasn't really alive. Because in that instant, nothing in the universe felt more real than him.

She was breathless when they finally pulled away, eyes dark with the knowledge of the taste of her enemy's mouth and the lines of his body.

"We should go," she whispered. _Before I lose something more than a few hundred dollars._

His set his forehead against hers. And then he smiled in a lazy, dark way. "Always trying to stop the inevitable, aren't you."

* * *

By the time the two of them left the store, they'd managed to pick up an extra pair of jeans, a shirt, and sleep pants. Valerie complained Dan was too high-maintenance, and Dan complained that she was too cheap. He swung the small bag of clothes over his shoulder in a nonchalant manner, tossing his empty carryout box into a trashcan. "Really, Valerie. No wonder you're pissy all the time if you force yourself to wear cheap, uncomfortable clothing. Your mood swings are more understandable now."

Valerie gave him a hard look, then looked down at her coat, which was old and worn. "My clothes are fine," she said. "And I'm not kidding, you better pay me back somehow."

"Pay you back?" He pushed back some of the free locks of his hair, eyeing her. A wide smirk split his face. "…How exactly do you expect me to pay you back?"

As they walked past a calendar stand, a strange man in a baseball cap ducked down. From between the slots of the shelves, his eyes trailed after their every move and the way the two seemed to lean into each other. Valerie's profile was flushed and alert, her teal eyes narrowed playfully at D as she said something out of ear shot.

"No," Nathan whispered, slamming his fist lightly against the shelf. He wanted to yell. Despite the backslide of this morning, D had seduced Valerie in the worst of ways—encouraging her to spend her hard-earned money on him! What a mooch and a manipulator!

Nathan had worked so hard just to hear her voice. And yet D had waltzed in, demanding everything, and Valerie had given it him, one by one.

Tears began to rise to Nathan's eyes.

Then a deep, unquenchable anger lit within him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the following people for reviewing last time: RustBlaster, AnotherSmartFangirl, and bwvbz! I very much appreciate it and hope you continue to enjoy the ongoing uploads of this story and the Deliverance collection. :) 
> 
> Got caught up in other fandoms for a bit but am working to get back on track with my DP projects!

For a few days, Valerie and Dan fell into a rhythm, needling each other from sun up to sundown. They moved close and pulled away. He finished _Crime and Punishment_ and began _War and Peace_ , which was much longer than the previous and resulted in a strange conversation about adultery and cats.

Dan remained enraptured with Valerie's library and with occasionally helping her to catch up on months of work while guarding against Nathan's presence. Valerie began to trust him to wander without killing anyone, and so she sometimes found him on the couch beside the fireplace in the atrium, reading and keeping an eye on her office. The fire warmed his body in ways that were much simpler than smoking.

He still denied his monetary debts to Valerie.

"Valerie, dear," he complained on the evening of the third night while in her office, "I've already saved Amity Park several millions by not attacking it. That far outweighs a few measly articles of clothing. You should be thankful."

"Thankful?" she retorted dryly. "No, people are thankful when you do something _nice_."

He raised a brow. "I am doing something nice." The word dripped from him as if it were tainted and worthy of remaining wholly separate from him. "I am not attacking."

"That's common decency," Valerie corrected forcefully. "Expected behavior. A real act of kindness means doing something unexpected for the good of others."

The powerful ghost eyed her for a moment. Then he sniffed and grabbed something from under his chair. "I am not here to act kind." He seemed almost affronted, pulling up a full manila folder. "But your father _did_ request I help him with the agricultural resourcing reports…"

"…What?"

"He said I had to contribute to your pointless society while I'm here," he complained. He flicked a his fingers against the folder. "And since I cannot simply slit his throat, it was either fulfill his request or actually _work_ in the underground farm. Which I did not know existed—I always wondered how the insects of Amity Park all managed to eat in this bubble."

Valerie's eyes narrowed. In the last two days, her father had shown interest in integrating the mysterious D into the resistance—likely because he was assuming D would become a permanent fixture in their lives. That D and her would grow...more intimately connected, per all their physical affection. But his seeming easiness around her and her father had not changed his mind about the value of general humanity.

"Give me that." She snatched the file away from him quickly. "You don't need to see anything."

The powerful ghost huffed at her. "Yes, I do. This is all part of infiltrating an enemy stronghold." That devilish look—the spark of black that tainted his whole being—began to rear its head again. "I may yet obtain world conquest."

Her sculpted eyebrows flew up as she read over his calculations. "You wish," she muttered. To her surprise, it seemed that the resourcing report was clean, the delineation of food to various social sectors quite logical. Damn him for always being impeccable. She began to flip through the pages. "What, no offensive stick figures or anything?"

"No," he hummed merrily. "That's what _your_ paperwork is for."

Her eyes snapped back to him, and she realized in horror that he had leaned over and was beginning to draw stick figures on her official report to the Mayor. He'd already managed to draw a maniacal-looking figure with a raised knife.

"Oh my god, don't do that!" She smacked his hand away with the manila folder, which left a dark streak all the way across the page of her report. Her eye twitched. "What are you, ten? Now I gotta rewrite the whole damn thing!"

Dan gave her a dark look. "And now I must to redo my assassin stick figure."

The exasperation in every line of her body tightened into anger. "You—" Dan's teasing nature was a horrific plague that she could not seem to escape. But she knew that this was his way of getting kicks without killing—which was a massive improvement. For him. She pressed her lips together, giving him a glare worthy of death. "You're gonna pay for that."

Dan's expression grew mischievous, delighted at her irritation. He leaned his elbows against the desk and eyed her straight. "How so?"

She huffed at him. "You and me in the training arena. Hand-to-hand combat. Right now. I'm tired of looking at your face without punching it."

He tilted his head, and then his smirk turned dark. "Challenge accepted." He cracked one of his wrists. "I'll bring you to your knees without an ounce of ghost energy, and you will finally acknowledge me as your natural superior."

"Ha!" she sneered at him. " _You'll_ be the one on his knees."

* * *

The training area was a large gymnasium with a matted area. Although a plethora of training weapons hung from the walls, the two of them skipped the weapons entirely. Dan removed his jacket. Valerie pulled off the over-jacket of her uniform, revealing her tank top beneath, and she tucked her wild hair up into a high ponytail.

"Okay," she said. "The first one to hold the other down on the floor for five seconds or longer wins."

Dan's lips pulled into a teasing frown. "Why not to first blood?"

"This is hand-to-hand. Bloody knuckles don't mean a thing."

The man paced on his side of the mat, eyeing her in curiosity, as if to measure her will. "You intend to allow this…challenge to reach such a height?"

"I've never fought you in straight hand-to-hand," she said, circling around him as she stretched her arms. "I wanna know your skill-level without all that fancy power to get you out of a tight spot."

He processed the words for a time. And then a dark, maniac smile stretched his lips. "Oh, Valerie. I love when you talk dirty to me."

Against the fluorescent lights, a few raised scars on her shoulder glimmered. Valerie gave him a glare, a spark of amusement in her eye. And then she launched at him.

His lightning-fast reflexes kicked in. He grabbed onto her wrist, wrenching down as he forced her sideways. He spun her against him until her back hit his chest. His grip was hard and calloused. "You'll have to do better than that," he murmured in her ear.

Something in her body tightened up. Desire. Anger. She sneered, "I'm just warming up." And she swiftly jabbed her elbow into his chest, right above his power core, twisting around before he could recalibrate.

Their steps were a dance, their punches and blocks timed. Dan, even posing as a normal human male, still had strength like a battering ram—but Valerie knew how to leverage his own strength against him.

Her strikes were like a viper's. Hard. Fast.

It was the first time Dan had ever experienced the full breadth of Valerie's black-belt capabilities, as their usual fights were interspersed with weapons and energy beyond their bodies. He was used to relying on his power to defend him—to go intangible if she were about to land a damaging blow, to blast her back if she were too close. This was a whole new side of Valerie. His mind began to hone in on her movements with greater weariness, trying to calculate her next moves to better physically block them.

They circled each other. "You're sloppy," Valerie said. Her voice sounded a bit breathless. "Spoiled from all that power."

He laughed. It was a short, harsh sound. Some facet of him—an element of Vlad Plasmius—had received training in combat, but he'd not practiced such moves in a long time. "What's hand-to-hand if you can blast a city block?"

"I can do both," she said, dark lips twitching in half-amusement. "Looks like you can only do one."

The insult raised his hackles. Something in his false-blue eyes sparked with darkness, and he eyed her as an enemy once more. It was an old habit. He reverted to intimidation. "I'd hate to lose control and snap you in half."

"I'd like to see you try, sweetheart," she challenged hotly.

His lips curled into a snarl, and this time he launched at her. She used his center of gravity against him, flipping her body up to twist to the other side of him. He back-stepped and swung his fist. Valerie ducked and swept her leg out, kicking him hard in the ankle.

Instinctively, he fell in a roll, twisting himself back into a fluid, graceful stand. His body came to a stop, and a bead of sweat broke across his temple. The illusion of his human skin was a large, constant tax upon his power core. The defensive blocks Valerie was forcing him to undertake were cutting into his energy. He gazed at her in cold amazement. He'd thought he'd seen all of her moves.

She cracked her knuckles. "Getting scared?"

"Hardly," he snapped back.

"You're hesitating."

"I'm recalculating." He eyed her curiously. "You've been holding back on me all these years."

Her own temples shined with the sweat of her exertion. "We've never fought like this before. You would have blasted me by now."

And in that moment, a new appreciation for Valerie began to creep into him. If he were not a ghost, Dan doubted he would be able to stand against her. He gazed at her, eyeing her movements, feeling a smile stretch his lips. "This is rather arousing."

Her eyes glinted. "Is it?"

"You have no idea." He cracked his knuckles, mimicking her earlier movements. "I always love challenges."

By now, their fight was attracting attention. A small crowd gathered off to the side, beginning to cheer and call out to both Valerie and her mysterious boyfriend. No one ever dared to fight with the Red Huntress, mostly for fear of injury. It seemed that D was a trained fighter and strong enough to hold his own.

"Ten bucks on D!" a brave soul cried out.

"Nah, man—Val all the way. Twenty bucks she's gonna kick his ass."

"You're on!"

Valerie glanced out of the corner of her eye, and then she looked back at Dan. He looked terribly amused. "Valerie, dear," he called to her. "It appears that several of your comrades will be losing money tonight."

"Not as much as they'll lose over you!" she called back, attacking again.

But Dan was a quick study, his mind sharp and able to anticipate more of Valerie's fighting style. His blocks began more intricate, his movements more fluid. On some level, she was teaching him about the finer points of human defense. Perhaps she knew that.

Time blurred.

In the midst of punches and blocks and twists, Valerie knew that she needed to shut down the fight as soon as possible to avoid wearing down. She still had a few tricks up her sleeve she hadn't used on him. And so she coiled herself up for a final stretch, feinting back to avoid being pinned.

The long fight ended with Dan's back hitting the mat from an unforeseen drop-kick, Valerie's body crashing down to pin him hard—the breath rushing out of both of them—

Dan instinctively tensed to throw her off, but against the mat, she had him well-straddled. Her bare arms glowed with sweat as she pinned his limbs in ways that cut off the flow of ectoplasm. Five seconds passed. Her bare skin was like touching fire. "Got you," she said breathlessly in triumph as beads of sweat trailed down her face. Some part of her looked animalistic at besting him.

People cheered, some whistling loudly. Money grudgingly passed hands.

Dan's baritone voice was breathless. "I let you win," he said. The heat of her body and the demand of physical exercise on top of maintaining a realistic illusion had left him actually tired. "Were—circumstances different—"

"—But they're not," she mocked, her teal eyes narrowed playfully. She pressed her hands harder against sensitive pressure points. Dan's face twisted lightly in pain. " _I won_."

There was some kind of sadistic streak in Valerie—they both knew it—just as they knew of the sadistic streak in Dan, and likely the masochism in both of them that allowed them to torture each other for so long and enjoy it.

He leaned his head back against the mat beneath him, his dark hair strung about in several directions from losing its tie halfway into the fight. "For now," he warned. He tried to calculate various ways he could fight dirty and flip them over so he was on top of her, but she had him fairly well-pinned. Damn her. Damn that her hips were jammed against his. It was all so very distracting.

The woman reveled in her win for a small time afterwards, enjoying the way his breath shuddered from the exertion of fighting her. Then she pulled back and loosed her hold on his arms, half-intrigued that he showed signs of physical exertion at all. "You're sweating," she said, curious and amused. Despite the steel of her touch in combat, her calloused fingers were soft against his temple where sweat trailed down his face and into his hairline. There was something so human about him in that moment. His skin did not burn as hers did, but it was warm.

He closed his eyes, savoring the touch. It was rare for Valerie to initiate a physical act of affection. "Your heat affects me," he said. "My skin."

The implication—that at least his illusionary skin could reflect the heat she emanated—created new images in her head of bedroom experiences. And then she realized for the first time that she was straddling his hips in a rather compromising position. An overwhelming desire took her as she stared down at him, goose-bumping her sweaty skin until she felt cold. Their lips were not far away.

"This fight," he murmured, his eyes dark with sudden realization. Want stormed through him. "You just wanted an excuse to touch me. To be on top."

She froze, her teal eyes widening at his insinuation.

"Don't worry," he said, lips stretching. "I like you on top."

She pulled back suddenly, almost as if she were burned. She dusted off her pants and readjusted her tank top, which was soaked with sweat. "I need a shower," she said, purposely ignoring his suggestion. Her voice was tight. "You should get one too."

His eyes slid to hers in mild interest, even though his own internal ectoplasmic abilities would regenerate him back to an impeccable appearance. "With you?"

" _No_ ," she said sharply. "You'll take one in the men's washrooms down the hall." But something was shaken in her gaze and voice. Her vehement conviction was gone. There was an element of curiosity.

The what if.

It wasn't until they both turned around that they realized several people were still watching. Among them was the infamous Nathan Green, who gazed upon Valerie's sweat-sheened skin, his mind replaying the image of her straddling D.

* * *

Sometime later, Dan stood in the heated shower, closing his eyes at the feeling of the warm water. He had forgotten this simple pleasure as well. As a naturally cold being with full regenerative abilities, he had no need for heat. And yet something continued to draw him toward it.

He stared at the illusion of human flesh stretched across his hands, and he clenched his fists, feeling the tendons move. Perhaps his attraction to heat was simply the effect of his illusion. It was the most intricate manipulation of power he'd ever undertaken—built to mimic real human skin, which was itself designed to regulate heat.

Then he began to think of Valerie and the heat of her skin, and suddenly he chilled with goose bumps. He leaned his head into the stream of hot water, closing his eyes and letting the soap bubbles slip off his form. _That woman_ , he thought merrily. _That vindictive and bitchy—_

Perhaps he'd let her win the combat exercise. Perhaps she'd truly bested him. He did not know, nor did he care. His thin lips stretched with the memory of her pinning him down with that awful glint in her eye. If she ever sat atop him again so smug…He could not guarantee he'd be able to stop himself from groaning in want, much less hold his illusion.

He certainly did not fear exhibiting affection for her. If she were capable of slamming him to the ground, none of his enemies would dare to cross her. He was delighted at the thought. A Queen equal to his King. She would be a powerful ally if there were some way to unite their purposes. And if she were ever to understand that the human race did not deserve her protection or mercy, instead of allowing Nathan to walk all over her…

Dan turned off the hot water and grabbed the towel he'd borrowed from Valerie, wrapping himself up as he squeezed the water from his hair. He began to think that along with Valerie and the best human cooks, he would allow some human engineers to live so they could build him luxurious bathing quarters all to himself. That would increase the number of humans living under his rule, which was a downside, but Valerie would appreciate his toleration of human life, which was a plus.

Dan quickly dressed himself, then began to pull his hair back into a ponytail. His face twisted in displeasure as his fingers hit tangles in the black hair.

As he turned the bend to the outer stalls and sinks of the washroom, he realized he was not alone. Nathan Green stood before one of the mirrors, and he looked over at Dan with some kind of triumph. Suddenly, all of the happy thoughts in Dan's mind squelched down into black rage. "You," he snarled.

"Hello, D," the man said, an odd smile on his face. "I saw Valerie beat you this evening."

Dan couldn't help it. He pushed Nathan against the wall with a harsh shove, narrowing his eyes. "What are you so happy about, snot?"

Nathan's triumphant gaze faltered in pain, but he still looked vindictive about something. "I know she hasn't slept with you."

Dan's eye twitched. Then he slammed Nathan harder against the wall, and this time the towel racks and mirrors rattled. "How the hell would you know that?"

"I know a lot of things," Nathan whispered shakily, that damnable smile lighting his feverish eyes. "I have my sources."

Dan's lip curled down. Valerie must have told that idiot bimbo something, and the idiot bimbo spread the word about their…tentative physical relationship.

"I'm g-gonna stop you," Nathan said, eyes wide. A nervous laugh loosed from his lips. "I'll stop you before she gives in. Before you ruin her."

Dan felt an overwhelming desire to murder the worm right where he stood, but he knew that his false appearance would likely suffer consequences. No—this Nathan before him was not armed or causing massive destruction. He released Nathan and sniffed. "Go ahead and try. Valerie desires me, not you. Nothing will change her disgust at your presence."

Nathan blinked at that. Then slowly, a blush creeped over his freckled face. "What she thinks doesn't matter," he said, voice tight. "She's blinded by you."

Dan looked as if he were seconds away from blasting the Nathan to kingdom come. "What Valerie thinks _does_ matter," he said. Something in his face did not look human in that instant. "It's the only reason why I haven't strangled the life from you. Now leave, worm."

"Y-you're bad for her," Nathan said, swallowing back his fear and the memory of the man's steel punches. "She just doesn't see it."

"Listen here," Dan said, voice spewing venom. "I've watched you stalk her as nothing more than a piece of meat to be devoured. So if you want to play the white knight, go ahead. But you're as dark and as corrupt as I am."

Nathan's body shook. "You d-don't deserve her."

In another burst of anger, Dan tore him away from the wall so the man went spinning into a trash can. He found great pleasure in the way Nathan crumpled like a paper doll. "I don't deserve her any less than you do."

Nathan gasped in pain, his whole body shaking in fear. For a time, he lay crumpled on the bathroom floor. It was all he could do to drag himself to his hands and knees. "You're gonna ruin her," he groaned in pain. "The minute she gives in to you—you'll take everything she's worth."

"Valerie's value doesn't change whether she spreads her legs or not." Dan's voice was dark and rough. "She is invaluable. But for you—" His lips raised in a smile. It was not a happy one. "In your finite mind, that's all you care about, isn't it. Keeping her pure since you cannot have her." He hauled up Nathan by his hair, and the man cried out. Then he slammed the man into the wall again. "This is your last warning," he declared, voice fully displeased.

Nathan's cheek was scraped from the cement blocks lining the walls. He held a shaky hand to his ruined skin, eyes wide.

And then Dan sniffed and walked away, still seeing red.

* * *

Affronted by Nathan's continuing interest in Valerie, Dan began to take matters into his own hands. He knew Valerie would not approve of him murdering Nathan, but he needed leverage against the man. Something tangible to blackmail or intimidate him into submission.

The slightest thread of Vlad Plasmius twisted in pleasure at the thought of blackmail. Clandestine espionage.

And so 1:30 in the morning found Dan alone in Valerie's office. He was fully dressed in his street clothes and sitting at her desk. A lit cigarette spun between his lips, the smoke drifting up as he hacked into her computer.

His presence was really more of a clone of himself—he did not want Valerie to awaken in the middle of the night and see that he had snuck off to do insidious things while she was distracted. They'd been having too much _fun_ for such back-steps toward distrust. She would never know that he'd activated his power and used a little invisibility for discretion's sake. He'd left the majority of his consciousness lying on the makeshift bed, eyes closed.

Valerie had been heavy in sleep on her stomach, her dark ringlet curls twisted all around her, face turned away on the bed. She was vulnerable, her neck and back exposed by her thin tank top. The sight had risen up some strangely protective impulses.

As he sat at Valerie's computer now, his face twisted in pensive thought. The screen illuminated his face, providing the only glow he'd had in days. "Now, Valerie dear," he murmured to himself, breathing out a puff of smoke. "What secrets have you hidden from me?"

He dug through her files, her contacts. The military-grade file share had several battle plans and approved emergency evacuation processes in the event that the Shield failed. But these things, while worthwhile, were not the target of his attention. Instead, he was crawling through her email for particular evidence against one Nathan Green. Valerie had remained excessively tight-lipped about the torments Nathan had subjected her to…

His blue eyes darkened with increasing anger as he scrolled through her emails. A whole folder was titled "Legal" and was filled with several communications between Valerie and…lawyers?

He read the first email, dated back almost a year ago. _Commander Valerie Gray: Your request for a restraining order against defendant Nathan Green has been denied per unsubstantiated claims. If you feel this message has been sent in error, please contact us._

He found another email: _Commander Valerie Gray: Thank you for contacting us again. We have escalated your appeal to the District Attorney, who will contact your personally for a hearing._

Then Dan noticed the name of the District Attorney. Lester Green. The name stung the synapses of his mind. Lester _Green_. A relative of Nathan's?

The fated email from Lester Green, however, was anything but endearing. _Dear Valerie, I looked over your case, which I understand you've applied for two appeals now. I'm sorry to say that your lack of evidence still inhibits us from taking your requests seriously. I'm sure that you, as the Defense Commander and the famous "Red Huntress," are capable of minor issues and do not need the legal defense of the court. We are currently busy with a murder trial. My regards._

Valerie's own emails began to grow more heated. _I provided evidence with six wedding rings in less than one year and multiple concerning letters in his own writing. Don't tell me your office lost them. I've been on a legal waiting list for three years to get representation. I can't just shoot Nathan like I can Phantom._

Dan inhaled a puff of smoke, mostly to hide the sudden ice of his power core revving in anger. "What the hell," he muttered under his breath. As he scrolled through, he found a few other instances, some signed with witnesses—all of them denied legal approval as substantiated evidence against Nathan Green. Did anyone know about her appeals? Her father? That Latin bimbo—Paulina? _Anyone?_

For some reason or another, it seemed the District Attorney was willing to keep his younger relative Nathan in Valerie's presence. But for what? Fame? Did the D.A. want Valerie to get with Nathan so that he could capitalize off of it somehow?

Dan's face twitched in great irritation, fighting down the urge to slit the throat of Nathan Green and this relative of his. It figured that the justice system would be corrupt, even in an apocalypse and at the expense of its own protector. Humans. Nothing made his ectoplasm pump faster than the sheer pointlessness and hypocrisy of human existence.

He began to think of murder again. How easy it would be to sneak to Nathan's room and put the bastard out of his misery. The need—the blood lust—suddenly made his fingers shake. It was an all-powerful desire that he had not indulged in days. He dragged hard on the cigarette, trying to focus on the silence of the room and the heat billowing inside of him. He was angry. Something had to die.

_But Valerie..._ She would not express affection for him if he were to given into the blood lust. He would lose his ability to come and go in his disguise as D. And so he sat there for a time, trying to calm himself down, wondering what the hell regular people did when they were frustrated. He burned through his cigarette. It was not working. All that talk of smoke being relaxing—it didn't do a thing for him.

His finger tapped impatiently against the armrest of Valerie's chair.

Just then, his false-blue eyes caught sight of an email within Valerie's normal inbox. It was an email from her father, from earlier in the evening. _Valerie, I know you are trying to catch up with D before the next attack, but we need help on several construction initiatives. Can you spare him for fixing up the Shield?_

He stared at the email, eyes hard. Then he leaned his cheek against his hand and thought of the potential advantages and disadvantages to the elder Gray's request. "Hmm."

* * *

Valerie awoke in a good mood a bit later than usual. Her eyes opened of their own volition. Her body ached with a few pulled muscles from her hand-to-hand fight with Dan.

At the remembrance of his name, she stretched, looking to the side of her bed for her wayward, murdering and bacon-loving roommate. And then she froze mid-stretch, eyes wide and hair in a wild frizz down her shoulders. The blankets on the floor were pulled away with no one beneath them, street clothes and shoes gone.

No Dan. No half-naked, psychotic ghost asleep in the twist of sheets.

Her heart stopped as her whole body heated up in absolute terror. "Ohmigod," she breathed. She looked at the clock, which was half past five in the morning. She hadn't been awakened by screams or an alarm, so Dan had likely not gone on a rampage. Yet.

She launched off of her bed, grabbing for clothes. Her heart was pounding a horrific rhythm. "Ohmigod, he's loose." She'd been perfectly content with a lazy, sleepy Dan who wanted to flirt more than he wanted to kill. "Oh shit."

With his virus infecting Amity Park's security, her own battle suit would not pick up on his signature unless he left the city. As she had no alarm from her suit, she knew he had to still be within the city. Somewhere.

Tears burned her eyes. A very real fear—that she had again trusted him too much—frayed her nerves. If he injured even one person, it was on her for letting him stay. Maybe he'd gone stir-crazy. Maybe he was tired of playing with her and had to get a kill quota in. Maybe he was trying to steal even more valuable intel.

She struggled her way into her uniform, quickly buckling up and pulling on her combat boots before she raced out the door. She haphazardly pulled her hair back in a low ponytail, her curls still wet in places from her late-night shower. Valerie stumbled from the dormitory corridors and into the main halls of the resistance building. In a spark of inspiration, she raced to the cafeteria, praying that Dan was simply just eating breakfast.

But there was no Dan to be found there either. Only the usual, early-morning suspects.

"Margie," she called desperately to the woman at the counter. "For the love of God, Margie: tell me you've seen D."

The old woman gave her a wide-eyed look. "Why, yes. What's wrong?"

Valerie forced herself to rein in her panic. Margie had seen him. Margie was not dead. This was good. "Okay," she breathed in relief, even though her voice was still heavily strained. "Okay, I just need to know where he went."

The woman's eyebrow raised. "You two have a lover's quarrel last night or something?"

Valerie tried to think back to the previous evening. After he'd returned from bathing, he'd been far more silent than usual and had not even demanded a good night kiss. She'd thought it had just been from him being a sore loser and from being pushed into the public washrooms. "Maybe?" she admitted, although she would have thought a real quarrel would be an argument. With words.

"Well, he walked by in a huff this morning about something. He even fixed all of our uneven tables! I was worried."

Valerie blinked. "Wait. What?"

"He said he had some steam to blow off, and he grumbled some very interesting phrases about our dining tables." Margie shook her head. "That man of yours—he took some tools from your father and rebuilt a few things around here."

The young woman openly gaped. "He…rebuilt stuff? Like, did something constructive?"

"That's why I thought you two quarreled!" Margie said. "Really, dear. What did you do to him? He seemed very upset or worried about something. The only time I've ever seen a man act like that was when he was trying to get something off his mind."

With her luck, those "fixed" tables now had surveillance feeds or permanent signal disrupters. Even a good act from him seemed to carry an undertow of evil. Maybe she really had pissed him off.

A pissed off Dan was not good. He was always so touchy.

"Where is he now?" Valerie demanded.

Margie shrugged. "Outside working on the Shield, I think. He was speaking with your father about it earlier."

Oh, that was definitely not good. Calculating quickly, Valerie activated her battle suit, the panels smoothing over her form. She held out her hand. "I need a bribe. Give me some bacon I can put in my subspace."

The old woman handed her a small, Styrofoam box. "Way ahead of you, deary."

* * *

The sun had yet to rise, and only a dull gray covered the outside world. Everything was harshly windswept, with snow piles banked against the building and the nearby Shield towers. Valerie's battle suit began to kick in its internal heating mechanisms.

She narrowed her eyes, and there—in the distance, she could see a dark figure atop one of the towers. She activated her jet sled and stormed up, streamlining her body against the winds. The land grew small beneath her as she surged forward. "What the hell are you doing out here?" she called, almost in panic. "Screwing up even more of my stuff?"

Dan had yet another cigarette hanging from his lips, looking entirely comfortable in the frigid air. He looked as if he were just finishing up. He pushed a protective panel back into place, screwing the nails in with a learned precision. "Relax," he told her dryly as she landed on the platform. "I increased the electromagnetic output and hooked up the tower to a new transformer. It was glitching out and putting stress on this tower—hence the circuitry always shorting out."

She paused, blinking in surprise. She deactivated her helmet to see him for herself, and the harsh cold kissed her face. "But that's helpful," she accused in suspicion.

"Of course it is," he sniffed, raising his chin. "This place is a dump held together by termites. My sense of perfection can't take your people's mediocrity." He waved out to the air. "I also fixed up towers one through five, in case you're curious."

She leaned in. "But…why are you helping?"

He waved off her concern. "It's like playing chess with myself." He knocked on the tower, and it rang a deep, metallic thrum. "A better challenge for next time I attempt to dismantle Amity Park. I won't get bored if the barrier doesn't shatter like glass on the first try. Your father also…deeply appreciates my willingness to contribute to the cause."

"Margie said you were mad this morning," she said suspiciously, walking closer to him as if to inspect him.

He turned to face her, and tilted her chin up, marveling at the cool of her skin and the cold flush across her cheeks. "Yes," he murmured. His baritone voice was a warmth to her. "To avoid breaking our…nonviolence pact, I had to focus on my goal of further infiltrating this miserable city to protect you."

Her nose scrunched, and she pulled away from his touch. "You're probably just engineering new weaknesses into the Shield. Don't try to play me."

"Strengths are weaknesses, and weaknesses are strengths," he said her, casting away his cigarette to the metal platform. "It's all a matter of perspective. You think you're safe inside this bubble, but it's a den of snakes."

The cold air whipped his dark hair up, loosening it from his ponytail. The dark locks flickered against his sharp face, and for a second, Valerie's mind was unable to separate out his illusion skin from his true self. She flinched away—not out of fear, but out of the very odd realization that her enemy stood before her as a friend. It appeared he was not specifically angry with her at all, but something to do with Amity Park.

She tried to ignore the odd thought and said, "Stop messing with the Shield, and I'll give you something in return."

His eyebrow raised. "Oh?"

She leaned over, popped open the subspace on her jet sled, and offered up a piece of bacon from the box.

His false-blue eyes widened in sudden, desperate excitement. "At last," he moaned, snatching the bacon. He bit down in bliss upon the strip of meat, closing his eyes.

She pursed her lips, unimpressed. "What are you, a stray cat or something?"

He gave her a signature smile, which was somewhat less effective with a strip of bacon hanging from his lips. "I am not a stray cat," he said, voice muffled as he bit down on the bacon, ripping away the remainder. "As if a domesticated animal can even compare to my prowess."

"You don't have prowess," she said flatly. "You're just sick."

His expression darkened with something psychotic. "Well." He tilted his head to mimic her. "I suppose I am a bit…sick." He swallowed the rest of the bacon piece, circling around her. "As are you, Valerie dear."

She crossed her arms. "In what way?" she demanded.

He pressed up against her from behind, sneaking his arms around her waist. "You desire me," he whispered in a tease. "That takes someone of significant insanity."

Her face twitched, and she tried to shove him off, but he held tight onto her waist, marveling at the heat emanating from her battle suit. "Get off of me," she complained, face blushing. He was stealing her body heat, and she was once again in the arms of her enemy. "Too much touching too early."

His smile stretched. "No."

She budged against him. "That wasn't a request. Move."

"I'm not a solder," he said airily. "I don't have to listen to you, Commander Valerie."

"It's _Commander Gray_ , and I will force you to let go if you don't."

"You're just afraid of emotion," he said dramatically, holding on tight. "You don't know how to respond to positive feedback."

"I'll show you positive feedback," she muttered, eye twitching as she blushed. "Seriously. I got better things to do than stand here."

"No, you don't," he hummed, leaning his head against hers.

The two of them stood atop Tower 9, wrapped up in each other, his body shielding hers from the cold winds. And then Valerie sighed and leaned her head against his, "I hate you."

They fell silent for a time. He nuzzled his face into her neck, reveling in her heat and the scent of sand and exotic flowers. "What must you do today?" he asked, voice almost soft.

Something about this felt domestic, easy. Comfortable.

"A lot," she sighed. "There's always everything to do."

"Even when the dastardly Dan Phantom hasn't knocked on your doorstep?"

Her voice was dry. " _Especially_ then."

* * *

Amity Park had gone almost three days without an attack from Dan Phantom, which prompted a few to wonder if perhaps Phantom had made good on his threats to seek the Ghost King's power. That made both citizens and resistance members uneasy. Some began to state that the end was near. Phantom was going to return with an army. Phantom was going to decimate them.

Dan seemed delighted at the level of fear his absence inspired.

"Do you hear that?" he called to her. He was working on fixing the blinds of her office, which did not want to shut all of the way. The lack of total privacy made him think that Nathan would use it to an advantage. "The insects _miss_ me. My cold, black heart is warmed at the sound of their worry." He inhaled. "I can almost smell their fear."

"They're not insects." She was distracted over her work yet again, typing furiously on her computer. "And that's not fear you're smelling—it's the window cleaner. Remind me again why you keeping fixing things."

He snapped the blinds to catch her attention. "Because you won't let me kill Nathan," he said, almost in a pout. "And if I have to exist in this decrepit environment with you, then I will have it to my standards. Which is perfection. And privacy."

Valerie's fingers paused over the keyboard, and her eyes flickered up to him in suspicion. "I'm surprised," she said slowly, "that you're actually following the whole non-violence agreement."

"I can think of over one-hundred ways to murder Nathan without any traces leading back to 'D.'" The ghost deftly worked to re-twist the strings on the blinds. "But you would make him a martyr against me if I kill him."

The woman stopped working entirely, eyes narrowing. "What does that mean?"

He looked up at her, "You honestly believe his life has value. You would hold it against me. And I will not have him come between us in death." He twisted the blinds shut with a satisfied appraisal that he had fixed the problem. "No, I will have him reveal his own darkness to your people, and your people will have no choice but to confront that Nathan is dangerous. If the insects have even one iota of a brain, they'll lock him up and throw away the key."

Valerie scoffed, but the lines of her body grew a bit uncertain. "He's not dangerous. Just an…annoying pest."

"That's what he wants everyone to think," Dan said, voice dark. "That's what you've convinced yourself to believe because no one else has listened to your complaints."

"What do you—"

"—Even that bimbo Paulina talked about him as if he were some sort of harmless peeping tom. A little sprite to be turned away with a simple talisman." His eyes narrowed. "But he's more. Trust me, Valerie. Evil knows evil."

She held his gaze for some time, the tension heightening between them. "You know I could protect myself if anything happened," she said slowly. "I kicked your ass last night."

He pointed a finger at her. "You sat on my ass and held me down, but that's irrelevant. Obviously, your black belt's not being used against _Nathan._ Explain to me why you felt the need to appeal for a restraining order against him."

Her face twitched in shock. "What? How did—how do you know about that?"

Dan diverted, accusing, "You don't feel your morality allows you to kill or injure Nathan since he hasn't threatened you. So you turned to alternative means of securing privacy. Like a good, little _law-abiding_ citizen." His voice dripped in sarcasm. "But a piece of paper will not keep him away."

"Hey, it's more than a piece of paper, okay?"

"And you're more than a pushover. What are you not telling me?" he demanded. "Obviously your legal representation has failed to deliver."

Valerie snapped, feeling cornered. "Dammit, it's not that simple—"

" _What's_ not that simple?"

"This! All of this, okay?" Something in her look scared, even as she stood up. "I have a reputation to keep up. People—they believe in Red Huntress. What she stands for. What she does." She swallowed hard. "I represent this city in everything I say and do. I'm expected not to let minor nuisances get to me while upholding justice for all. I'm expected to be invincible. The appeal for a restraining order was just an attempt to control the problem quietly."

"Well, isn't that just _patriotic_." He looked as if he were seething beneath that human skin of his. "No one has any idea of the depths Nathan has on you, do they?"

She bit her lip. Her silence spoke volumes again.

Dan's expression was guarded as he walked toward her. He crossed his arms. "Tell me what he has done. You're purposely hiding things from me. And from everyone else but your biased lawyer."

She rubbed her temples. "I don't want to talk about this," she said. It was a poor response and hardly even a deflection. "Not right now. I have work to do."

His face twitched in displeasure. "This is more important."

"Dammit—Nathan doesn't deserve to die, and I'm not going to jeopardize anything with my job to stop him. If you want to help me, then keep being D. This is the least Nathan's bothered me in a long time. This plan of yours is working." She hesitated. "It's just…going to take some more time."

He huffed at her. "You are so blind."

"And you're not exactly a voice of reason, Mr. Massacre."

He sat opposite of her desk and grabbed for _War and Peace_ , which he'd managed to read halfway. He grumbled against her for a time or two.

The two fell into silence at that, and Valerie sat back down in her chair with a huff, understanding that Dan was playing mind games with her. She tried to return to her work, but a cold feeling had gripped her now. The thought that she was not in control. That she was missing something.

In the hours that passed, the two grabbed lunch, and Dan received a new administrative assignment from Valerie's father. He moaned at the pointlessness of the paperwork behind closed doors.

"What is it with you humans and paperwork?" he complained once they were back at Valerie's office. "It's entirely inane. Look at this. Fifty pages of change requests for supply shipments to Jasper. Just let them rot in peace."

"No, they're a protectorate of ours." She raised a sculpted brow. "And since you tried to destroy them earlier, consider this poetic justice."

His eyes rolled. "Please. I will still destroy them, regardless of whether I bullshit my way into your administration or not. This is a temporary concession only. The calm before the storm."

"You know I won't let you destroy them."

A merry glint worked into his gaze. "Then expect another bout of that delightful hand-to-hand combat. But with my ghost strength."

"Bring it on," she challenged mildly, going back to her work. As she looked for an extra pen, she realized one of her desk drawers was propped open. She raised a brow in curiosity. "Huh. Could have sworn I shut that…"

But the shine of a box caught her eye. She opened the drawer a bit more and pulled out the unknown object. "What the…? Was someone in my office?"

The box was small, with a sticky note on top. _Just in case_ , the note said in Paulina's bold print. As she stared at the box, she realized in shock what it was and nearly dropped it.

Condoms.

"Oh." Her face flamed up with an incredible heat, and she stared in shock for a second or two. And then something cold raised the hair on the back of her neck.

Dan looked up from his work. "What is it?"

With a squeak, Valerie looked up, eyes wide. Dan was staring with a raised brow, then he looked at the offending box. His disgruntled expression turned into one of great amusement. He leaned forward and grabbed the box with the note. "Fascinating," he said, spinning the box. "It appears that your bimbo friend approves of us increasing our sexual relations."

She stared at him, slightly horrified at his presence in that moment. She blinked dumbly, jaw dropping.

Dan sniffed and then cast the box into the room's corner trash can. The amusement fell from him. "Such precautions are entirely unnecessary, of course. Paulina should not have done this."

Valerie blinked again and tried to find her words. "…What?"

His face grew a bit dark, and his lips tightened into an odd line. "I'm dead, Valerie. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't get you pregnant." Then he looked back down at his work, a dark shadow around him. "It's a pointless fear."

Valerie sat in the silence of her own awkward thoughts. This was another one of those topics that was dangerous. Eventually, she stood up and began to walk toward the trash can (it would not do to have the janitors find something so damning in her trash). She pulled out the box with hesitant fingers. "How do you know that?"

"Research," Dan said vaguely, not looking up from the paperwork before him. "You're not the first human to catch the eye of a ghost. Any attempts to create a child between a full-ghost and full-human have resulted in nothing."

A strange and awkward silence came over them. "But…you _were_ human," Valerie said, voice hesitant and roughly suspicious that he was lying to her for some reason. "And ghosts can have kids. Remember that, uh, lunch woman and the box idiot?"

He loosed a short laugh. "Was. I _was_ human." He pulled out a cigarette from his jacket and began to light it. "And ghosts don't make children the way humans do. Sex is a human concept."

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"A ghost infant is created on the basis of a mutual obsession, not mutual physicality. Box Lunch, the ghost you were referring to, wasn't born. She was built out of fused ectoplasm from her parents' power cores." His face twitched with disgust nevertheless. "I cannot even fathom those two exhibiting physical attraction enough to simulate human sex."

"…Oh." She wasn't sure if she felt disappointment or elation. If it weren't even possible to get pregnant from him, the concept of a physical affair became a lot more attractive—nothing to hold her back or worry her beyond the simple issue of secrecy. She'd never wanted kids. But the fact that the very option of children did not even exist with him was a…new tension entirely. What did that mean? Why did it bother her to know that she couldn't have children she never wanted with an enemy she was supposed to hate anyway?

"I always wanted one," he said suddenly, exhaling smoke in a dark sigh. "A daughter. A son. An heir to rule with."

Valerie tentatively dropped the box of condoms back into her desk drawer to hid it from prying eyes. "Why?" she asked curiously. "You're not exactly the father type."

His eyes slid to her. "No," he agreed, "I'm not." He could very blindly recall images of the shame and embarrassment that was Jack Fenton. Vlad Masters's father had been cruel and abusive. Dan's impulse for a child did not derive itself out of a need to be a father, for he did not know the meaning of the word. It was simply a selfish impulse for company—for someone to gaze up at him in total awe and adoration. A chance to mold a mind to his will.

"If you don't even have to do it to make a kid, why haven't you yet?"

His nose scrunched. "A child inevitably reflects both parents, and I would not have my power diluted. The other ghosts are idiots, hardly above animals with their pointless obsessions and weak power cores."

A silence came over them at that.

"But none of this should matter to you," he said curiously, setting aside the paperwork. "I would think you'd be joyous to discover my…barriers to reproduction."

Her mouth felt dry. She realized Dan was admitting something that was likely hard for him speak about. A deficiency of some kind. Their ultimate incompatibility—that their relationship was in some way unnatural, per the simple fact that humans and ghosts made babies differently.

"Well, I don't want kids, and I definitely don't want any with you," she spat out on instinct to hide her real confliction. Words began to pour out of her mouth—babbles to bolster herself. "I don't even want sex with you, so who cares."

The spark of vulnerability within him died, and his blue eyes hardened. His lip curled in anger. Then he stood up and smashed his cigarette against the wood of her desk, burning a dark mark.

Her jaw dropped, and anger flared into her. "What the hell are you doing?" She stomped over and smacked his hand away from the desk "Don't wreck my stuff!"

"Don't lie to me," he snarled, his voice nearly echoing with the demonic undertone of his true ghosthood. He stood up to face her. His blue eyes were twisted in genuine anger this time. "Don't _pretend_ with me to save face."

"Oh, yeah?" she challenged, not one bit intimidated by him. "Which one of us is wearing an illusion?"

"You tell me, Valerie," he hissed. Her name sounded like a curse. "I felt it. Your desire for me. Now look me in the eyes and tell me again that you don't want me at all."

Her heart burned in anger against him. "Oh, so we're back to demanding sex, huh? What happened to just wanting to spend time with me?"

He stepped forward, nearly nose to nose with her. "What happened to the unafraid Valerie who could at least admit that _I'm not making this up_?"

She stopped, her face growing red in a blush. "Well, dammit—I—" Her voice faltered. It seemed all of their arguments recently had been a result of her. "I'm a defense commander. You're my enemy. It's not supposed to be like this." She waved her hand to the air. "And you—you just told me that we're not compatible. That we're _physically unnatural_ together." Her voice broke. "How am I supposed to take that? You know? Maybe that's a sign. A cosmic sign that means we're not supposed to keep going. That this—all of this—is just a lie."

He broke away from her, looking as if she'd struck him in the face. "What's the lie?" he demanded. "Our desire for each other?"

"That we could ever work," she clarified, voice halted. Her face grew pained. "The more involved I get with you, the harder it's going to be when the shit hits the fan and you go back to killing people."

And then dead silence fell between them.

Dan stared at her hard, face pinched in unmeasurable anger. He looked as if he could not speak for some time. Then, he breathed, "You infuriating, bitchy, hypocritical—" He bit his tongue, then started again. His voice was hard with desperation. "I'll make it work. We'll make it work."

He kissed her then, hand reaching for her waist.

Valerie's thoughts scrambled completely. She gasped at the feeling of his kiss, tingles running down her spine. She could feel his passion—his determination. It was all she could do to pull away. She declared, closing her eyes to fight off the pleasure, "I'm not having sex with you."

His long fingers swept against her hand, interlocking with her own. "You already are," he said, eyeing her deep. "In your thoughts. In mine."

The truth hit hard. She looked terribly afraid for the first time, as if she were finally realizing the full extent of her attraction to the infamous Dan Phantom—and his attraction to her. That this was not a simple lust to be cured by someone else, regardless of whether it were natural or not. The flame of a guilty blush on her face gave her away.

His free hand raised to stroke the soft of her dark cheek. "I would create life with you if I could. But I can make love to you in the human way."

Valerie looked up at him, eyes wide. "I, uh…"

He leaned forward. "Give me a chance," he whispered, almost a beg. "Valerie."

Her stomach dropped hard at the sound of her name in his mouth. It sounded absolutely sinful. Every syllable was a moan.

_Oh my god._ Everything in her tightened up in want for him. When she leaned her head up, their lips touched. It was a fire. He kissed her, and she kissed him.

Their kisses grew heavier until Valerie was gasping against his lips in the spaces between them, hands weaving hard into his clothes and hair. She felt his large hands run down her sides, ghosting along the curve of her breasts and the swell of her waist. He bunched up the material of her uniform, as if he were desperately trying to feel through it.

Tingles began to storm down her spine. This was a whole new level of intention. She didn't even realize Dan had pinned her against a wall until her back hit it, and she squeaked when his hips pressed tightly against hers. Her heart skipped at the feeling. Trying to move made the friction between them greater. She suddenly couldn't think beyond the feeling of him. The burn in her belly. That she wanted this. Him.

The man—he was not just a ghost in this instant, but so much more—groaned, capturing her lips with his. He grew more desperate for her, his fingers pulling at the belt buckle of her uniform, as if to rip it off.

Her hands pulled at the hem of his shirt, fingers digging into his bare side to hold onto something steady. She could feel the twitch of his hard muscles, the erratic rev of his power core.

By that time, he'd managed to unbuckle her belt and was pushing back the jacketed layer, revealing her dark skin and white tank top beneath. His cold hands sensually brushed against the bare skin of her arms, goose-bumping her whole body.

At the feeling of his hands on her skin, she pulled away from the kiss, breathless and in awe. The two of them stared at each other with mindless desire. For a second or two, they hesitated. Then he leaned down to kiss her again, stretching her lips open in a slow rhythm, taking his time to feel her.

And then a knock sounded at the door, and the two of them froze entirely.

"Chica?" a female voice called out. Paulina. Another short, impatient rap pounded on the door. "Chica, we got an emergency in Jasper!" The door opened before either of them pulled away, and Paulina's eyes widened at the sight of Valerie pushed up against a wall by her boyfriend, their clothing disheveled and half-undone. She froze in the doorway, and then a look of horror came over. " _Dios mio_ ," she breathed, and she slammed the door shut.

Valerie's brain kicked in again at the sound. She flinched away from Dan. "Oh my god."

Dan's eyes were closed tight in need, his fingers still tight on her arm. For a second, he looked as if he would groan or cry. Then his eyes snapped open, and they were blood red as they narrowed at the door.

Fear swept through Valerie—the thought that Dan would not hesitate to kill Paulina. She shoved him to the side, eyes wide.

"Uh, hold on!" she called out nervously to Paulina. Her voice was hoarse. "I'll be out in a sec."

She quickly restrung her arms through her now-rumpled uniform, buttoning up the front, feeling very distant from herself. Her fingers were shaking, and she looked up oddly at Dan, realizing for the first time just how far she'd let him go. She re-bucked her belt and tightened the rungs to smooth out the uniform against her curves.

He looked miserably put out, his hair a mess from her fingers pulling out his hair tie, his shirt and jacket no longer pristinely fitted against him but skewed. His face twitched, and then his fists clenched. "That—" his husked voice was halted. Rage overwhelmed him, robbing him of words. All he knew was that Paulina was going to die. "That."

She grabbed onto his hair and pulled his face down to her level. "Don't you even think about it," she demanded in a harsh whisper, narrowing her eyes at him. "You hear me?"

His red eyes snapped to her, bleeding back to blue. His lip curled in a growl. "She needs to die," he said, voice low and worn with pain. "She ruined it."

An awkward space opened between them, in which they knew the true depths of their attraction but had not obtained. Valerie was still trembling in ways, her body still burning for him. And yet she forced herself to step back. "I should go," she said. "I can't—" She pressed her full lips together, as if to keep herself from saying more. She looked afraid and vulnerable. She did not trust herself around him anymore. The innocence—that she could pretend it was all a game, just physical fun—was gone.

He reached for her arm, his anger at Paulina giving way to his sudden realization that this woman before him was leaving. "No, wait."

She pulled away another step. "We'll talk later," she said lamely, mind racing.

Then she raced out the door, leaving Dan standing alone in the silence of the room, his body still warm with the heat from her.

* * *

Valerie was very unhappy and embarrassed as she stormed down the hall. "Whatever's wrong with Jasper, it better be serious," she snapped.

But Paulina wasn't even paying attention to the original concern. "Oh my goodness," she was babbling, "so not that I meant to intrude, but you two would make such _cute babies_ —please tell me you'd make me the godmother. I'd be the best godmother ever. I'd spoil them and everything. Can I take back the gift I gave you earlier?"

Valerie's eye twitched. "I'm not having kids. Definitely not with him."

"Why not? It totally looked like you were trying to make _something_." Paulina jabbed her elbow into Valerie's side. "Right? Right?"

The woman's face burned an even brighter red. "Shut up, Paulina."

"Why are you so embarrassed about all this? Sex makes babies. Fact of life." Paulina's voice was airy and sighing. "I mean, I know it'd take like nine months out of your day job, which is why I gave you that gift—but really, Val. I can just see you and him cuddling a baby between you, and it's the most precious thing! Two kickass fighters making a baby and getting all protective."

Before Valerie could think it through, she snapped, "He can't have kids, Paulina."

The beautiful woman paused and looked absolutely affronted. "What? What does that mean?" Her eyes widened. "He doesn't have like, a _disease_ or something, does he?"

"No," Valerie groaned. _Oh my god, why did I open my mouth?_

"Why can't he have kids?"

Her mind raced. "He was in a…contamination accident. Made him sterile."

Paulina whined. "No cute babies? Nothing? Honey, he's gotta be lying to you. A sexy man like that's gotta be able to have kids. Even if they'd be mutants or something from radiation."

Valerie raised her chin. "Well, maybe I don't want kids," she said, almost defensively. Then she stopped herself. Why the hell was she defending anything?

Paulina blinked. "But what about when you're old and need someone to take care of you?"

"…That's selfish, Paulina. That's not a reason to have a kid."

"But…but—legacy!" the woman began to argue. "Your whole family line will die out if you don't have a kid! You're the last Gray!"

"So?" she challenged.

"You mean that doesn't scare you?"

In some ways, it did. She pressed a hand to her temple, feeling a headache coming on. "Look, a kid sounds nice in abstract, right? Giving life and all that. But maybe it's just not for me. Maybe that's okay." She sighed. "Now tell me what's wrong with Jasper. It better not be Phantom."

Paulina's lips thinned in irritation at the change of subject. Valerie was always so closed off. She huffed. "Jasper's trying to build a better Shield before Phantom attacks again. They want you to oversee the project and approve their plans." Her blue eyes narrowed. "Which reminds me—when did _I_ become your secretary? Since D spends so much time with you in your office, can he be your secretary instead?"

* * *

The afternoon gave way to evening, and darkness blanketed Amity Park. Valerie had successfully managed to avoid Dan for over five hours. She worried that she'd truly pissed him off because he had not come around to see her, which usually meant he was plotting something.

By the time she'd left her father's office, the clock blinked 7:00 pm. Her virtual conferences with Jasper's military detail were stressful, mostly because her father had been providing his input from an administrative perspective—and the infamous Dash Baxter had been deployed to man the transportation of building materials. The three of them did not see eye to eye on anything.

"Oh my god," she breathed in complaint, feeling a headache strain behind her eyes. Dan was probably seething at her, pacing holes in the floor somewhere in the resistance to keep himself from shedding his human skin.

She almost did not want to see him. It was a weary fear. An embarrassment to think of him and the things she'd allowed him to do to her in her office. It was even more harrowing to think of that ridiculous condom box and that they'd even had a conversation about what it would mean to sex each other up. She still needed time.

And so she began to calculate. _The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Right._

Valerie soon found Dan on the couch in front of the atrium fireplace. A large fire radiated heat and light, and he appeared to be comfortably finishing up his book, _War and Peace_. Biting her lip, she set a cup of hot chocolate before him.

His eyes slid to her, and he raised a brow. "What is this?"

"A peace offering." She sat down next to him on the large couch, holding her own cup tight.

"We're not fighting."

"Not yet."

His lips twitched. "Very well. Continue to seduce me with delicious treats, and I might grant you mercy." He raised the coffee mug to his mouth and delighted in the rich warmth of the chocolate. It pooled down to his belly, where his power core immediately began attempting to convert it to ectoplasmic energy. It was a very inefficient process but far more enjoyable than siphoning energy from the air. "Now tell me why we will fight."

Valerie did not break gazes with him. "I have to work late tonight," she said.

He face-faulted.

His expression made her babble. "Some stuff came in—I'm still behind on a lot. I need to trust you not to…go crazy or anything while I work."

The powerful ghost narrowed his eyes, and his face tightened in displeasure. "You are stalling for time," he read between the lines. "You fear being alone with me now."

Valerie clenched her mug a bit tighter. Honesty was probably going to be the best policy with him, which burned her deep in her desire to appear unaffected. She fell very silent, not sure how to explain what she felt.

He measured her up, trying to calculate a response with the greatest reward. "Did I injure you?" he asked casually, knowing that he hadn't.

Her face tinged red. "N-no," she said. Her knuckles strained almost white against the mug. At least, he hadn't injured her in the traditional sense. He'd burned his touch on her. He'd injured her sense of morality and personal space. And maybe, her pride for thinking she was so above him.

The ghost's lips stretched into a smirk at her stutter. "Then do explain your hesitance with me."

"I said a few days ago I wanted time. To figure this out."

In irritation and amusement, he rolled his eyes. "You seemed quite sure earlier this afternoon," he complained loudly, "when our tongues were battling for dominance and your hands were grabbing—"

She clapped a hand over his mouth, looking horrified. " _Don't you dare_ ," she said. Lucky for her, few people were milling about—but some looked over in curiosity at the Red Huntress as she hissed under her breath, pulling her hand away from Dan's mouth in half-fear that he would lick her again, "Dammit, you didn't have to just shout that to the world!"

"I exist to make you miserable," he said, almost happy at the thought. His lips were warm from her fingers now. "And I'd hate to let people think you're so _righteous_."

Her face burned red. "People know I'm not a saint, okay? No one's a saint. But this is between us, not them."

Dan almost seemed as if he would laugh. With his free hand, he reached out and touched her face. "If it were not for _them_ ," he warned, "you and I would have already mussed your bedsheets. _They_ are certainly involved in our relationship, whether in their ridiculous interruptions or perceived moral hold over you. You should know they care about your sex life only for a buzz of their own."

She flinched away from him, her heart skipping oddly at the thought, anger against and desire for him riddling down her spine. Had Paulina not interrupted, she just might have given in entirely, right in her office. Her body ached with the thought as she stood up. "Maybe they're right to worry."

He cast aside _War and Peace_ , and he stood up her to eye her. "Valerie," he said, voice strained, "this isn't a one-night stand. I've known you for ten years." He gently tilted her chin up, and he leaned in with a whisper, "I've desired you for eight."

The heat of the fireplace had leeched into him, warming his skin to the slightest degree.

Her face flamed red again. "That long?"

"A minor internal battle," he whispered, his voice a brush against her lips. "Mostly hormones to start."

She felt raw before him, caught between leaning in to taste his mouth and pushing him away. "You never said anything."

"You didn't understand me then." His calloused fingers brushed down her neck. A soft friction. "And I did not understand my thoughts about you."

The woman closed her eyes, her skin goose-bumping from the feeling of his touch. "We're a bad idea."

"Yes," he agreed. "Horrifically so."

"This afternoon was a mistake," she whispered. "You're gonna get me killed before it's over."

His false-blue eyes deepened, and he set his forehead against hers. "Valerie dear, you know that all plots tend to move deathward."

A shy smile twitched her lips. She leaned against him. "Don Dellillo's _White Noise_ , huh? We're moving up from Shakespeare."

"Can you deny the truth of that quote? You will die with or without me one day." His fingers wove into her ponytail, pulling out the tie so her thick ringlet curls bounced down her shoulders. "I simply wish to be with you before that happens."

"We're in public, you know," she whispered dryly.

Something teasing echoed from his voice. "That did not stop us before." But as they stood in the midst of the fireplace's heat, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. His gaze snapped.

Nathan was standing in the shadows, carrying that damn clipboard of his.

Dan wrapped himself around Valerie and leaned his head against hers. He looked straight at Nathan. An evil, dark smirk stretched his lips, as if to say, _Look at this. She is all mine._

The other man's eyes narrowed.

Valerie sighed against Dan's shoulder, feeling guilty for enjoying the feel of his body. "I wasn't kidding about the work I still have to finish tonight."

He tightened his grip on her waist. "You know what they say about all work and no play."

She shoved against him without any real force. "You're the one who causes all this damn paperwork."

And so for the rest of the evening, they fell back into something of their domestic rhythm. Valerie returned to her office desk, grumbling about work, and Dan returned to the chair opposite of hers as an immoral support. He was finishing up _War and Peace_ like a good little citizen and was waiting with the patience of a saint for Valerie to finish up.

Eventually, he lost his way into the plot of the book and became engrossed in the sociopolitical commentary. The time passed back in terms of pages—the smallest spark of familiarity that he might already know the ending.

It wasn't until after 10:00 that he reached the end of the book, fully satiated at its existential angst. He ran his long fingers down the back of the cover. This was one book he had never quoted from—which made him wonder why Valerie even owned it.

But when he looked up to ask her, he paused. The infamous Valerie Gray had fallen asleep over her stack of paperwork. Her ringlet hair was a mess of a ponytail that she'd tried to pull out, one hand still tangled into the locks atop her head.

Dan stared at her, tilting his head in curiosity. Then his thin lips twitched up. He imagined this was quite typical of Valerie Gray—she never knew when to stop, and she often ran herself into the ground simply to accomplish something.

His small smile turned devious. He set his book aside and unceremoniously kicked her foot from under the desk. "Valerie dear," he declared loudly, "it appears you have missed your old-lady bed time and are in desperate need of a hairbrush."

She grumped, shifting a bit at the sudden crick in her neck. "Not an ole' lady…"

"Of course." Something in his voice dripped with delightful sarcasm. "How could I mistake you for a lady."

She groaned. "Lemme 'lone," she demanded, her one open eye narrowed at him.

His eyebrow raised. Valerie must have become more comfortable with his presence. This was a level of weakness he had not seen before. A sleep-deprived, grumpy Val too tired to make a comeback of any kind? It was almost precious.

"I cannot leave you alone," Dan said, leaning forward, "as that would ruin my fun and defeat the purpose of solving your stalker problem." He reached out and swept back some of her ringlet curls with his long fingers. "Come to bed with me."

Her eyes opened a little wider this time, and a damnable blush sprinkled across her nose. "Not sleepin' with you," she mumbled, pulling reluctantly away from her paper pillow of documents. Dan's fingers breezed against her curls. "But I think I will go to bed."

"Your linguistic clarifications wound me," the disguised ghost moaned.

Valerie looked at him, tiredly amused. "Yeah? Well, your metaphors suck."

"I could make several puns with the word 'suck,' you know."

"Your puns suck too."

* * *

After a short walk and a half-hearted nothing fight over literary devices, Valerie collapsed onto her bed, kicking off her boots and disjointedly pulling the covers up over her body. She did not undress; the walk to the washrooms was simply too far to comprehend in that moment.

Dan pulled off his jacket, staring at her in dark curiosity. "Do you honestly intend to wear your uniform to bed?"

Her voice was rough and weak with the need for sleep. "No."

"…Then why are you?"

Confusion briefly flickered across Valerie's face until she registered that her belt buckle was in fact still pressing metal against her belly and that the feeling would become irritating in the night. Her tired fingers fumbled with the latch, and she struggled out of the outer jacket top, tossing it carelessly to the floor. It landed right atop of Dan's bedsheets. Her voice was rough and weak with sleep. "Too tired for this shit," she complained.

Dan's lips curled in a dark, lopsided glint. "Well, I'd help you undress, but…you don't _trust_ me."

"You're damn right," she said sleepily. "Don't try anything funny."

"Please," he called out as he turned around to shut the room door. "I'd rather seduce you when you're coherent."

"Good." Then Valerie closed her eyes.

The response made an amused Dan turn his head back to her as he shut the door behind him—but an odd glint in the far corner of the room caught his eye. Then it was gone. The hallway lights had struck something just right—

He paused in curiosity, then stepped back. Had he dreamed it? A glimmer of something. Almost metallic. But when he craned his neck just right, he saw it again, flickering.

It was almost imperceptible to human sight…

His blue eyes narrowed at the wall as he further sharpened his vision. Then his eyes widened, and he looked away, blinking hard. It was a small device. A lens of some kind—a camera.

The implications left him reeling in a cold darkness. Cameras recorded things. And this recorder was taping _Valerie_. In her room.

He glanced around in discrete paranoia, recognizing a few more glints in strategic areas. "The fuck?" he breathed, putting two and two together. The whole damn place was wired. Every inch of the room was likely visible through the three camera lenses he counted. It seemed down-right criminal to invade one's personal bedroom.

Dan's mind raced. For what reason would anyone watch Valerie like a criminal? Without the light from the door shining just right, even he'd barely managed to find the cameras—so how long had those cameras been there? What were others hoping to gain by it?

Then it hit him. The most plausible explanation. Rage enveloped his heart.

He looked at her form, mostly twisted in the top cover of her bed. And then he launched toward her, desiring to shield her body from the angle of the cameras.

"Valerie." He gently shook her awake. "Val, wake up."

She groaned. "Sleeping," she complained, voice groggy. She pulled the blankets over her head and burrowed deeper into her sheets, hiding her face until all that appeared over the blankets was a mop of ringlet curls. "Go away."

If they were not being watched, he might have smiled. Instead, his face tightened in worry. "This is important. You need to tell me something."

"If it's about sleeping with you, I already told you—"

He leaned over and asked in her ear, "—Does the resistance do video surveillance in everyone's room?"

"…Wait. What?"

"There are cameras in here. One on your mirror, another in the fan above your bed. Another on your door. I did not notice them before. Is this regulation?"

From beneath the blankets, Valerie blinked. The sleep began to drain from her eyes in confusion. "… _What_?" Her face twisted. "No—we only have surveillance on the main hallways and the armory. Why the..." Her heart began to pound. Her voice wavered in false confidence. "Why would there be cameras in here?"

"You tell me, Valerie."

Some kind of blush-worthy horror overcame her. She was thankful for the blanket of the dark to hide most of it. _Oh my god. Cameras recording. In my room. Where I sleep._ "If this is some kind of joke…"

"You're being spied on," his voice grew a bit more forceful. "I would not lie to you about this, especially since _I'm_ now on these tapes." His long fingers reached up to stroke her dark cheek. "We cannot afford to raise suspicion in case we're being watched right now."

She closed her eyes and inhaled shakily. "Makes sense. Right." His touch was a cool fire, awakening her even more from the drowsiness of sleep. "But w-why would cameras be in here?"

Only his eyes betrayed his fury, for the rest of him was pleasantly leaning towards her. "I have my suspicions." Then he pulled away and said, "Let's go pretend we're running for a late snack. If we don't look alarmed, he might keep recording. We'll catch him in the act."

"Him?"

"Oh, don't even _pretend_ that you don't know."

Now that he knew the cameras were there, he stepped in the way of them, blocking the sight of Valerie as she quickly rolled out of bed, slipping into her combat boots and pulling back on her jacket. Dan realized that whatever happened next, Valerie would come to know just how deep Nathan's insanity was.

And she would finally allow real justice to take its course.

"What the hell is my life," Valerie whispered to him. Her fingers were shaking.

* * *

The hallway was dark and silent.

"His room's this way," Valerie said quietly as they turned the bend. She looked caught between bolting in the opposite direction or shooting everything. Her whole body was tight with calculation and anger. "If I see him, I'm going to kill him. This isn't a good idea."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Dan muttered under his breath.

She took a few more steps and stopped. Her eyes turned suspiciously to Dan. "How do I know you didn't place those cameras there? That this isn't all just a chess game you planned to make me think that Nathan did it?"

He gave her an incredulous look, and for a second, a blip of the old Danny Fenton shined through—that wide-eyed confusion. "You think _I_ did this?"

"You could've," she challenged, crossing her arms to hide her hard swallow. "I never know with you."

His lips thinned into a hard line. "You know that I enjoy a good chess game—but a ploy like this would not work in my favor for several reasons. Nathan did this. And he'll show you himself." He grabbed tighter onto her hand. "You should be more worried about what I will do when I see him."

Soon enough, they stood just outside his room down the long hall—the last one. The door to Nathan's sleeping quarters was dark with only the glow of the security to illuminate it. Dan's face twisted in irritation at the passcode-protected security lock. "Dammit," he growled. He could not simply turn them intangible and fly through if the main halls had security cameras. In his irritation, he simply jammed the door open with his supernatural strength, and it gave way easily enough.

"What the hell are you doing?" Valerie said, eyes wide. "We can't just—"

But as he walked in, ignoring Valerie's hiss of disapproval, he noticed that the room was abandoned. Everything was clean. As a matter of fact, it looked as if the room was hardly lived in. "You said this is his room, right?" he asked, voice odd.

She stopped short at the odd realization that they were still alone. "Well…yeah. Everyone gets one room."

He ran a finger across a nearby dresser, which had nothing on it but a layer of dust. Then he looked at the bed. In the dark, his sharp eyes could see the dust gathering on the bed's pillows. "He hasn't slept here for several weeks," Dan declared. "Does no one check in on him?"

Valerie crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "It's Nathan."

"Good point." He turned around, scanning the room.

Valerie's face twisted as she glanced around. "Maybe he just sleeps in the lab a lot?"

"I doubt that," Dan sniffed. "He would need a place to hide the recordings of those cameras. No—he's got everything that matters to him in another location. Something close that no one would think to check."

She bit her lip. "There's the storage closet on the other side of his room…"

Dan's eyes flickered to her. "Can he access it?"

"I thought only janitors did."

"Then I have a feeling your cleanup crew's never accessed it," Dan declared. Evil knew evil. Nathan was keeping secrets—and what was sounding like a big one. "Did Nathan choose this room? Did he have a choice to get this room? Is the storage closet connected to this one?"

"I don't know," Valerie said uneasily. She pushed off the wall and began to look around. Nothing seemed incriminating about the room. "But I don't like this."

"Neither do I," Dan said. His face was twisted in anger. "Nathan is, I'm sure, about to prove just how wicked he is." He opened the closet and pulled away some of the hanging clothes and discovered with rising anger another door.

Valerie said from behind him, in disbelief, "A door to the storage closet?"

"It sure as hell ain't to Narnia," Dan snarled, nearly pulling it off the hinges as he broke the lock and opened it. But to his surprise, it opened into a dimly lit janitor's closet with various shelves of cleaning products. "…Huh."

The two of them stood in the middle of the darkness, stumped. Dan grabbed onto one of the bottles in anger, as if daring it to be anything else than it was. "We're missing something," he said. He turned around, scaling the edges of the room.

"Wait a minute," Valerie said, eyes narrowing in fear. She walked forward to another door. "I didn't know this was here." The door was simple and unassuming with a sign: **Hazardous Materials—Lab Waste**. The text below the big block text read, _To be managed by acting personnel with RED_01 clearance_.

"Nathan's one of the few with that kind of cleanup clearance," Valerie whispered, running her fingers down the sign.

"And _why_ does Nathan have power or special clearance of any kind?"

"I told you; he runs errands for a lot of people." She paused. "And he works in the Lab. But I could have sworn…" Her voice trailed off. A hazardous materials storage room was already connected to the lab.

She grabbed onto the door handle and opened it. Black greeted her in the form of a dark stairwell. It was not a storage room at all. Feeling chills run down her spine, Valerie tentatively began to walk down the steps, Dan behind her. The stairwell opened up into a large, dark room, with shadows on the wall.

Dan flicked on the lights.

Valerie stared in horror. "Oh my god," she breathed. For a time, she simply stood in shock.

It was something of a storage basement—perhaps once meant for hazardous waste. But that was not what it contained anymore.

Her face was everywhere in a massive shrine. Clothes she thought she'd lost months ago were hanging from the walls, including even her favorite bras and panties. Several pictures of her half-dressed body (most likely taken as still-shots from the recorder) were taped in collages along the walls. And there were four computer monitors—three providing a live feed of her room, and one actively replaying what appeared to be an old recording.

Valerie's eyes widened in horror as she stared at a black and white video of herself undressing before her mirror to view the scars on her bare back. She suddenly felt horrifically naked, curling in on herself, desperate to feel the heavy material of her military uniform. Tears sprung to her eyes. "Oh my god," she whispered again. She felt frozen and cold.

Dan's face twitched in anger, his lips tightly pressed and bloodless, his face in a blush. He surged forward and slammed his hand against the computer. It crashed hard to the ground. Large waves of fury and possession rolled off of him as he stared at the live video feeds of Valerie's room. "That bastard." His eyes were dark, red straining against the blue of his illusion. "That son of a bitch."

Valerie looked about ready to hyperventilate. She leaned against the wall, feeling more violated than if Nathan himself had touched her. "Oh my god," she whispered, voice strangling. "He's been watching me." The mountains of CDs, carefully dated by the months, towered against the wall. "For years, he's been—"

Tears rose up behind her eyes. Her face was red with embarrassment and horror. She barely even cared that Dan was now watching her cry—at least he'd had the decency to bash one of the computers.

Dan turned to her and grabbed her chin. His false-blue eyes peered into hers with something fascinatingly like concern. "Are you going into shock?" he asked point-blank.

Valerie barely seemed to acknowledge him. She couldn't shake the horror from her.

"Valerie," he said, staring at her with great serious. "This is not the time to go into shock."

His words seemed to flip a switch in her brain. Suddenly, all of the fear dropped into anger. She broke away from Dan and turned to the wall. Her sharp nails ripped at the pictures of herself hanging up, tears blurring her vision. "I want it to stop," she said. Her voice broke. "Make it stop." Nathan had violated the sacred space of her bedroom and of her right to privacy. This was beyond stalking. "Just stop!"

Dan watched her. "You see it now," he said slowly. "You see what happens when you trust the human race. How your value in human life will fail you every time. You're lucky this is all that Nathan's been hiding."

"Shut up," she hissed in fear, teal eyes watering. She ran her hand through her loose curls, fingers shaking. "Oh my god. We need to get security down here. Like, now."

"Yes," he said, voice hard as he pulled down one of her white bras from the wall and spun a strap on his finger, "because _obviously_ Nathan is a harmless little pest like everyone said. Why would we need security."

Valerie snatched the bra from his hands, horrified. "Dammit, don't. Just don't even start with me. Go get security, and I'll—" Her eyes watered with tears. "—I dunno, try to take down all the worst pictures before anyone else who knows me comes down here."

His face twisted. "You should come with me—they're your people."

"No!" she said, face red. "You go." She did not want him to see more exposing images than he had already of her. She was duly embarrassed, desperate to get him out of that room. "Please. I don't—" Her voice trailed off. "I don't want you to be here."

Dan's gaze darkened in irritation. "What, you think I'm turned on by this? And how do I even contact them, your security?"

"Use Nathan's phone in his room," Valerie's voice shook. "It probably still works. Dial 491."

He stared at her for a second, taking in the red flush of her watery eyes and the vulnerable lines of her form. Her emotions made her more naked to him than any of the pictures on Nathan's wall—and he burned in protective rage. "I would rather hunt him down myself," he said, voice dark. "But then if I saw him—there wouldn't be a body to incriminate."

And without waiting for a response, he turned back and surged up the stairwell with inhuman speed.

Valerie stood there in the silence of Nathan's obsession, still holding onto the white bra that Dan had pulled down from the wall. "Why would…" Her voice broke. Words failed her. She felt very cold and tired and violated.

Surely, this was all a dream. She most certainly was _not_ standing in the middle of a disturbing shrine to her own body, where Nathan had likely sacrificed hours of his life, watching her undress and sleep and cry in her room.

The mattress and blanket in the corner suggested that he was here quite often.

And then suddenly, a soft noise from the corner of the room caught her attention. She flinched. The large air vent's cover suddenly gave way, and a man tumbled out.

_Nathan._

The man straightened into a stand, eyes wide. "Valerie," he called. Dust coated his hair and his white scientist coat from hiding in the large vent. It made him look old and dirty. "Y-you scared me when I heard you and D above."

She backstepped in horror. "Oh my god." She activated her battle suit, and its warm, protective panels swept over her body. "What the hell are you doing here."

A few seconds passed in silence.

His smile was shaky, eyes wide and feverish, and he acted as if there was nothing wrong. "I could ask you the same," he whispered.

Her voice was a shaky snarl. "What have you done?" Her breath hitched. "Do you even…understand how insane this is? This isn't normal, Nathan. I knew you weren't normal, but I didn't know you'd do _this_."

The man bit his lip. "I know you don't want to be here," he said. His mind had been racing when he'd seen Valerie stare in horror around the room, Dan crashing the computer monitor... He knew he would need to act fast to keep his secret. And to save Valerie from herself. "I don't have a lot of time."

"Time?" Valerie demanded. She took a step back. "Time for what?"

Nathan said hesitantly, "I heard about how you almost gave in to D today. Word travels fast." He smiled weakly. "I was planning on doing this later, but right now's as good an opportunity as any."

He pulled from out of his large coat pocket a small weapon. A gun with a glowing-green barrel.

Valerie's eyes widened, and great consternation struck her dumb. "What is—?"

"I designed it, with a little help from our Russian allies," he explained, as if he were sharing a secret. "You never cared to ask if I were a chemical engineer and a fission scientist. If I helped to design the weapons you worked with." He tapped the gun. "This contains armor-piercing rounds with something extra. But if I shoot you now, it'll rip through that suit, and it'll preserve your body from decay. Like a freeze in time." He raised the barrel to her chest. "It might hurt a little."

Valerie backed away, eyes wide with horror. "Oh my god. Nathan." She was too far away to kick the gun out of his hands. He was too close to miss. Nathan had probably planned that, considering he knew everything else about her. "You would actually kill me."

The darkness of the human condition swirled in his face. "I didn't want it to be like this," he whispered. "You were supposed to love me. But D's right—you've chosen to love him. So I have to _preserve_ you before you're ruined. Get it?"

"What happened to that promise of never hurting me?" she scoffed shakily, eyeing the weapon as a chill tore down her spine. "Huh? What about that?"

"This isn't hurting you, Valerie." He looked concerned. "This is setting you free. He's eaten your soul."

"And D's called security," she retorted, raising her chin to hide the odd quiver in her voice. "What do you think you're gonna do, huh? Kill me and him, hide the evidence all while keeping my dead, preserved body stashed down here? You'd never get away with it."

"I would if I left Amity Park." A steady look was in Nathan's eye, as if this was not a new thought for him. "It's for the best. For years, you _hurt_ me." His voice shook with wild emotions. His eyes burned with tears. "I thought you were just shy, but instead you had someone else while you strung me along for fun."

Valerie felt paralyzed. Maybe she could keep him talking until Dan came back. "I never strung you along," she argued. "I kept telling you _no_. Nathan, I—"

"—Shut up!" he whispered harshly, this time raising the barrel of the gun a little higher to her heart. "Just…stop!"

The evil that had possessed Nathan was far beyond the darkness she fought on a daily basis. Ghosts were supposed to be evil; Nathan was supposed to be good. He was supposed to be weak and kind.

Instead, he'd been twisted into something that was—at the core—human and terrifying.

"It won't hurt for long," he promised, eyes pained. "And then you'll be with me forever. Just the way you are. I'll keep you safe."

"Nathan, don't shoot," she raised her arms up in surrender, trying not to hyperventilate. He still held the tactical advantage. She wouldn't be able to land a hit before he'd shoot that gun. "Dammit, we can talk about this. Okay?"

"I know you don't love me," he said sadly. "There isn't much to talk about. But I'll take what I can get."

Just then, Dan reappeared at the top of the stairwell—only to realize instantly the sound of another voice. _Nathan._ Every line in his body tightened in a blur. "Valerie!"

He made it to the end of the stairwell just as Nathan pulled the trigger. _Bang!_

Dan stopped thinking. He lunged for Valerie in a blur, grabbing onto her shoulders and wrenching her down. He activated his powers to turn them both intangible. But then the bullet hit his side before his powers took over. His body jerked hard, and he cried out, reverting out of intangibility.

Nathan, terrified at the sudden appearance of D and his inhuman speed, pulled the trigger again and again. _Bang! Bang!_

Dan and Valerie collapsed hard onto the floor. _Bang! Bang!_ Dan's body jerked with every hit. Dizzy and dazed from the fall, Valerie raised her arm instinctively. She activated one of the defense mechanisms on her arm sleeve, and suddenly electric wires shot out at the distracted Nathan.

He saw the spark of light, but he was too late to dive or turn to shoot.

The electricity hooked deep into Nathan's chest, and his wide eyes bulged. "Mfh!" He convulsed for a second or two, the gun clattering to the side. Then his entire body fell to the floor in a disjointed silence, twitching several times before his limbs relaxed.

Valerie dropped her arm, breath hitching, eyes wild. Then she retracted the wires. She'd just lashed out against another human being. Potentially killed him.

Over her body, Dan's body shuddered. Strange gasps of real pain escaped from his lips. "Ngh," he moaned, the sound muffled against her shoulder. He tried to lift himself off of her, only to collapse limply with an agonized cry. He rested his head against her chest.

Something about that reaction felt too real to be just an illusion.

Valerie struggled to roll them over, her own limbs shaking. "Oh my god." Dan's face twisted as his back hit the floor. He had taken the bullets in a very human way.

"You didn't go intangible," she breathed incredulously, looking him over. "Why?"

"I couldn't," he winced. "I tried. S-something in the bullet—" he gasped again. His body began to shake, and he blinked to clear his sight. "The bullets—"

She tore his shirt at its side seam, realizing in horror that being shot five times by whatever Nathan had concocted was bad enough to damage Dan. It meant that the bullets would have torn through her battle suit too. The floor beneath him was beginning to pool with blood, which slowly turned from red to green as it slipped from his illusionary control, revealing his true nature and the reality of his injury. It wasn't just an illusion.

The high-powered bullets were eating his energy. He tensed up and winced at the feeling of her hands trying to stop the flow of his blood.

"Oh my god," Valerie was saying, her speech halted in terror. Dan's cold blood stained hard into her skin. He was bleeding out fast. "What the hell. What did Nathan _do_?!"

She was trying to remember how he'd described them. Something about a preservation effect. That it would hurt a little.

"I kn-know this power," Dan gasped in realization. He winced, pressing a shaking hand against his chest, then groaned as he forced his hand intangible. His fingers sunk into his side, as if to search for the bullets within him. "B-black-hole f-fusion. Feeds on energy. C-can't get to 'em," he breathed, "whether ghost or—human tries." His hand fell back uselessly to the floor in a deadweight, tangible again, fingertips flecked heavy with red blood that slowly turned green as it bled from him.

He had underestimated Nathan's will and intelligence greatly, if not just as much as Valerie had. He laughed, and the sound was worn and ragged. His chest began to convulse. The pain was real. His blood loss was real. His powers were locked.

"This isn't good." She looked worried for too many reasons. "I can't call for help; they'll know. Get up. Please get up."

His illusion began to fade under the strain of his injuries. His dazed, blue eyes bled to his ruby red. Stripes of shock-white hair began to show through the black. Red blood began to trickle down his mouth and nose, as if he were truly hemorrhaging out.

Real tears began to burn her eyes. "…Dan?" she shook him lightly. Her voice broke on his name.

To the last, he held onto his illusionary skin as best he could. He did not want Valerie to suffer under other resistance members discovering that D was Dan Phantom. A few splotches of his blue skin, like bruises, began to strain through his fake skin, purpling down his face and along his neck.

"This is a trick, right?" Valerie breathed desperately. "You're not really dying." Tears began to stream down her face. "Please don't be really dying. You're already a ghost. You can't die again."

His breath of a laugh gave way to an agonized, terrified moan. He was going to go somewhere he had never been. He could feel his entire body unraveling on itself. Even ghosts could fade out, although he feared by the feel of things that he would be leaving a body behind. The fusion bullets were keeping his body trapped to this plane of existence.

But it meant Valerie would stay alive. Unharmed. The death of D would be enough to put Nathan away forever.

Maybe he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do in Amity Park after all.

He gasped for air he didn't need as his body gave out on him. "Val," he breathed. He reached up to run his bloody fingers down her face, desperate to touch her one more time. "V-Val."

Valerie cried and grabbed onto his hand. "You stay here. You got it? I'll get you help." She didn't know what kind of help he even could use. What ghosts would even come to his rescue… "Just—hold on."

As he hemorrhaged, he began to choke on his own blood. No help would come for him. His power core flickered. His body twitched strangely. "D-don't g-go," he rasped, a deep fear overcoming him. "Please."

He was not a hero. He did not know how to die well. How to accept this. If she left, he'd be gone before she returned. Dan focused on the image of a panicked Valerie above him—the raw emotion on her face that hinted of his own value to her. He latched on hard to that. He needed it.

"Okay," she said, lips quivering. "I won't leave you." She had retracted her suit, and his cold blood began to stain her clothes in a way he knew would never disappear. She gently tried to raise his head to drain the blood away from his mouth and nose. He was gasping for air, suffocating from the void of air and ectoplasmic power.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, terrified. Her shaking, bloody fingers pressed harder against his bare wounds, but there were too many. The ground beneath them was soaking with his blood. "You're bleeding out. I c-can't stop it—!"

As he leaned against the heat of her body, turning in to feel the soft of her side, he thought that this would have to be it. That his choice to jump in front of those damning bullets—it would have to be his magnus opum. His swan song. His legacy to strike fear into the hearts of all.

A story that no one would remember.

The fusion bullets lodged in his side leeched the last of his power core, and its flicker died out. His first knowledge of oblivion. Then, Valerie's image blurred into shadows. He felt only the vibrations of her shriek as he fell into something like a disorienting sleep, everything _rushingrushingrushing—_

* * *

Steps echoed as thunder down the stairwell. Her father quickly appeared with a squad of guards, eyes wide. "Valerie. Baby, we got that call, and we heard—"

She was cradling the limp body of her boyfriend in the midst of Nathan's shrine, sobbing in the middle of a puddle of blood. Nathan himself was still knocked unconscious, electrocution burns imprinted up his neck. But it was D's image—he was sickening to behold, his red blood mixed with something green, his shirt half-torn away to reveal a mass of damaging wounds, skin and eyes disrupted by inhuman colors. Limp and silent in Valerie's arms.

Damien Gray backstepped for a moment. So did everyone else.

Valerie looked up, entirely undone. "Nathan sh-shot him with something," she tried to breathe between sobs. "It did—I don't know what it did." She hid her face in D's black and white hair. "Stop faking," she pleaded, voice breaking. "Get up."

Her father tried to pull her away, greatly pained. "Valerie, he's not getting up."

She struggled against him, holding onto D tighter. "No!" she cried. "It's not real—it's just a trick—an illusion! He's fine, he's totally f-fine—!"

She looked down at Dan again, turning his chin towards hers. "Get up!" she demanded, crying. "I know you're playing. J-just stop. Stop!"

For the longest time, she sat there, dazed. Dan's hollow, red eyes stared up to heaven, vulnerable and afraid. Something about that cut her deep. The great Dan Phantom was never afraid. But it was permanently ingrained in every line of his body now, his lips stained with two bloods.

Valerie's father reached out to her again. "Sweetheart—"

She pushed her father back, teary eyes wild. "Don't touch me," she hissed, sobbing. "I'm not leaving. Not until he wakes up and starts laughing, b-because this is all a trick. And I hate him for it."

Her father's eyes began to water in pain for her. "Baby girl," he said slowly, "he's not going to wake up." He held out his hand one more time. "I don't know what Nathan hit him with, but you need to step away in case of contamination. It doesn't look good. I don't want you to get…sick."

She looked down at herself. She was already covered in green blood, and she laughed through her tears in hysterics. She couldn't even tell him that she knew what it was. "You have no idea." Her laugh turned to a sob. "Not a damn bit. He took those bullets for me. All of them."

Her father tentatively placed his hand on her shoulder. "Come on."

"No," she said roughly. "No, I'm not letting go."

Some of the military men began to worry about the contamination from an unknown weapon. "Commander," one of them begged. "We need you to step away so we can remove the contamination threat."

"No!" she cried out, hiding her face in Dan's hair as she cradled his body. "He'll wake up soon. I know he will. We'll be fine."

This time, the security officers converged on her. "We're sorry, Commander!" one of them apologized roughly. "We have to do this."

It took all six of them to drag Valerie away and into the open arms of her father. "No—you're not taking him!" she sobbed, nearly breaking one man's arm when they finally managed to unlatch her from Dan. Her fingers reached out in a struggle. She was losing him. She had already lost. And as the agents held her tightly, she never looked away from Dan, silently begging him to get up. To groan. Anything.

But he never woke up or moved. And the red blood from his body kept leeching into a glowing green. In horror, she watched as even the glow of his green blood died, until it looked as nothing more than spent, nuclear waste crusting against the concrete.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the following awesome people for reviewing last time: The_last_Dantes, LMTYL__Lye, EmpressofFei, and SkyWriter121! Only one more chapter to upload after this!

D was officially pronounced dead by the practicing doctor, Kwan. Not much could be done for the man who had been shot five times and potentially contaminated with an ectoplasmic-based substance. But the recently-graduated doctor had been greatly confused by D's altered appearance once the body had been sent to his autopsy table.

Kwan cut away the remains of the man's clothes with clinical precision, poking and prodding at the body while he wiped away blood. Upon closer inspection, he realized the bluish-purple bruises were not consistent with bruises at all—they trailed up D's body in places where he'd not sustained injuries. D's eyes had turned a ruby red. One of his canines had elongated into a surprisingly sharp fang.

"What in the world happened to you?" he muttered under his breath as he pulled away, grabbing a needle. D's distorted image made Kwan feel cold and distant. He'd seen the way D had fawned over Valerie and had known that the man genuinely loved her. If Kwan knew nothing else about D, that was enough.

Valerie was still inconsolable, shutting herself away in some unknown location.

Kwan swallowed hard. "I should've come forward with Nathan's psych-evaluation," he admitted to the dead body of D as he drew blood. "I knew he was a high-functioning nut case. I just didn't know what he was capable of."

He pulled the full needle away, noting oddly how the dull blood was still a separated mix of red and green. "But I'll find out what he did to you," Kwan promised. "For you and Valerie."

The young doctor inserted the blood sample into an analysis machine, hoping to identify the root cause of D's odd physical distortions. What had Nathan infected him with? How had it altered D's DNA? But after a few moments, the genetic test returned with the strangest results. The bullets Nathan had shot him with were not the origin of the green blood or physical manifestations.

The genetics analysis detected no substance foreign to the body and instead read, _Ghost ENA detected. 100 percent. Running against GHOST data base_ …

Kwan's eyes widened. "Wait, what?" He nearly paused the machine, face in a puzzle but heart unsettled. It was telling him that everything within D was ectoplasmic in nature. That D was a ghost. He stopped the search and retried the analysis, only to receive the same message. "This can't be right."

Was it even possible? That D was really a ghost beneath his incredibly human skin?

Suddenly, the machine pinged, having identified the ENA against the known database of ghosts around the world. The name typed across the screen made Kwan's heart stop. He knew now why D's blood had bled green, why his eyes had gone a distinctive, familiar red, why his hair had streaked with white, why his skin had bruised with a familiar color…

_Because he was Dan Phantom._

Kwan gasped. "Oh my god." He pulled away from D, eyes wide. His knees shook as he stared at the dead body, which did not move at all despite Kwan's sudden enlightenment. He could see it now. The similarities. The face, the body's outline…

"Oh my god," he breathed again. He felt entirely frozen—the preserved body of _Dan Phantom_ , the Ravager of Worlds and the murderer of billions, was lying across his autopsy table. Dan Phantom had been inside the shield and inside the resistance using a human appearance. Dan Phantom had fawned over Valerie and seduced her. Dan Phantom had jumped before bullets and saved Valerie.

In the flutter of thoughts and images, Kwan suddenly began to fear for his own safety. The body of Dan Phantom was still unmoving, but that did not mean this wasn't a trap. If D was truly Phantom, it was likely a trap. Maybe that was the plan the entire time: Deceive everyone (especially Valerie), and then make a sacrifice so great that no one would see his attack from the inside….

He pulled out his phone, staring in horror at the body before him. His fingers shook as he dialed a number. A female voice, rough with emotion, snapped back. "What do you want?"

"Val?" he whispered quickly, the hair raising on the back of his neck as he scooted himself into the corner of the room. "I need you get here. Right now."

Her voice sounded odd, as if she'd been crying. "I don't want to see him."

"I'm serious, Val," he said, staring at the body on his table. "You need to get here and battle-suit up. _Now_. This is an emergency."

* * *

In record time, Valerie barreled into Kwan's medical lab, her sleek metal suit covering her body. Her eyes were bloodshot but highly alert. Then she stared at the autopsy table where Phantom's body lay with a sheet half-covering it, and something in her stance broke. "Oh," she said. Agony and disappointment wracked through her. Her eyes began to water. "From your call, I thought—" She looked up at Kwan with great accusation. Words failed her.

Kwan moved forward, desperate for her protection. He ran to her, voice low. "Valerie, we need to contain this body and lock it up tight." His voice was strained and full of stutters. "I know you thought he was your boyfriend—but the tests I ran—he's not human. His genetic readouts match up with _Dan Phantom's_." He hardly even whispered the name, as if it were cursed or that the sound itself would awaken the monster.

But Valerie did not grow shocked or frightened or confused. Instead, a heavy tiredness came over her. And when she blinked, her eyes began to water all over again. She swallowed back the waves of pain as she retracted her battle suit. "I know."

Kwan paused. "…Wait. What?" Disbelief made him back away from her, and his voice grew stronger, "Valerie, you've had _Dan Phantom_ sleeping in your room. Do you have any idea—"

"—Don't tell anyone," Valerie begged, her voice broken. "Let him die a hero. Please, Kwan. I know this sounds crazy."

He took a horrified step back from her again, suddenly unable to recognize her. "This sounds insane," he corrected. "You knew? I mean, you actually _knew_?"

"Yes."

"The whole time?"

Valerie nodded, her eyes blurring with tears. "He uploaded a virus to my tech. It blinded the whole resistance and the Shield to him. He threatened me in the beginning to keep quiet, but then—" her breath hitched. "I don't know. He couldn't have planned this." She reached out to Kwan. "Please, don't give me that look."

Kwan flinched away from her, looking betrayed.

Valerie added, voice breaking, "Let me explain."

The man gazed between Dan Phantom's limp body atop the autopsy table and the unguarded Valerie Gray before him. "What is going on?" he said in horrified confusion. "You kissed him and let him sleep in your room. Is this all a trick? Did he blackmail you? Something else?" The sudden thought that Phantom had done something to Valerie made his look of betrayal give way to guilt and anguish. Kwan moved forward, grabbing her hand. "Valerie. _What did he do to you_?"

Valerie's lips quivered. "Nothing," she breathed. "He didn't do anything."

Kwan raised his free hand and gently planted it against Valerie's forehead. "Did he possess you? What was his plan for being here? Is he going to wake up on my table and kill us all?"

The woman blinked at the rapid-fire questions, her heart growing heavy at the sudden concern Kwan held for her. She gently pulled away from him.

"Phantom…is not good," she said, voice pained. "But sometimes, when I fought him, he said things. Stuff that made me wonder if he wasn't all bad." She inhaled shakily. "And growing up, it was hard to forget, uh, some things about each other."

Kwan maintained an expression similar to ones he gave patients, at least willing to listen to Valerie. "What do you mean?"

Valerie swallowed hard. "He flirted a lot. I tried to ignore it, but he made it damn-near impossible, so it kinda became a tradition. Then he started noticing my problems with Nathan." She turned away. "One day, he implanted a virus in my suit, and he showed up on our doorstep in that disguise of his. Said he was going to help me solve my Nathan problem so I could spend more time fighting _him_."

The young doctor's eyebrows flew up. "I'm not sure if that's nice or disturbing."

Valerie rolled her eyes, wiping tears from her face. "He started worrying about me dying. He said Nathan was going to kill me. So he posed as an old ex-boyfriend to try and get Nathan to back off, and then everything changed."

Kwan's voice was hesitant. "Why would he do these things? I mean, Val…I've had to patch you up because of him. He wants you—all of us—dead."

She sighed. "It's been years since he tried to kill me. All my injuries, they've been from trying to help out his other victims. The people trapped in buildings and landslides…" Her lips twitched in a sob. "He hasn't wanted me to die for a long time. He could have killed me several times over. There were times I could have destroyed him. We didn't."

The doctor sat back and fell silent. "This is…I mean…." He trailed off, looking back at the limp body of D. "This is a lot to take in." He felt only slightly better about the dead body in the room. "And you let him touch you? Willingly?"

She thought back to the softness of Dan's calloused fingers running down her skin, the desperate need as his tongue slid against hers. She swallowed hard. "Yes." The thought that she would never feel his presence again made her heart squeeze hard and suffocate her lungs. Tears slipped down her eyes again. "He jumped in front of those bullets for me. I held him as he bled out. I keep thinking…this is all a trick."

"Are you sure it isn't?" Kwan asked.

Valerie eyed him, her face red from crying. "I felt his power core stop. I don't know if he can regenerate from that. If there's still a way to help him..." She swallowed hard. "Is there? Something I'm missing?"

Kwan gaped at her, his jaw dropping for a second. "You mean, you actually _want_ him to come back?"

"Yes," she admitted, eyes hardening. "I do."

The doctor seemed to stumble for words, racing for thought. Valerie did not appear possessed but under her own will. "Valerie," he finally said, "saving you doesn't justify his murder of billions of people—or that he would probably go back to murdering more. I can't…" He swallowed hard. "Even if I knew _how_ , I couldn't help you bring him back."

Frustration tore through her. "You don't get it," she argued, voice breaking. "He was changing. I _talked him out_ of killing people. I know he's messed up—but there's so much we could—"

"—Are you listening to yourself?" Kwan asked in disbelief. "He murdered _billions_ of people in cold blood. And you want him running around again?"

Valerie blinked, and tears slipped down her face. "I know it's crazy."

"You realize he's done worse things than any other being on the planet _for all time_ , right?" His voice, usually soft and content, was twisted in fear. "He makes the World Wars look like a tea party. Getting shot five times is probably the least of what he deserves, and I don't say this because I want to hurt you. This is just reality, Val. Whatever he was thinking at the end—"

The Red Huntress squeezed her eyes shut. "—Dammit, I know." She sat down tiredly in one of the free chairs. "I know what he's done. I got the scars to prove it."

Kwan licked his lips, staring at her in deep concern. "Well, what do you think he deserved, then? You think he deserved forgiveness? A happy ending?"

She fell silent. According to law, the intentional and premeditated murder of another human being demanded the death sentence. Amity Park did not have time or resources to mess with such things while under attack from Phantom. If she held Phantom to such a standard, then he deserved to die at the least. He had intentionally murdered five billion humans—children, women, men. Phantom wasn't human, not anymore. She had always thought she'd just destroy him and put him out of his misery, then spend the rest of her life rebuilding a world that did not remember or fear him. Likely, that was what he deserved. Obliterated. Forgotten.

Her lips quivered.

Kwan sat down beside her. His sigh was heavy and old. "Val. We've been friends a long time, and you know I'd do anything for you. But this is bigger than just us."

Frustration overcame Valerie, making tears blur in her eyes again. She probably wouldn't be able to get Kwan on her side—but maybe he could still help her. "Look, I just…I need to understand why he can't come back," she whispered. "If he's still stuck in that body somewhere, or if he's really gone. I want to know where he is. If anyone else finds out about this, then you can say this was all just to make sure the threat was eliminated." Her breath hitched. "Please. I know it's a lot, but I need it."

Kwan pressed his lips together tight. And then, very reluctantly, he nodded. "I know," he said, resigned. "I know."

"I'll owe you one."

"You'll owe me, like, _three_."

* * *

For the next hour, Kwan performed tests. The limp body of Dan Phantom did not move at all beneath that white sheet, and despite the horrific discolorations of his body, the ghost looked almost human. The way that the body never seemed to tense up in death but remained limp and pliable was disturbing. His eyes were half-lidded in frozen sorrow, his white-streaked hair a wild, matted twist in all directions.

Kwan was still haunted by the concept that D was in fact Dan Phantom. That he'd seen this man cradle Valerie, kiss her soundly, and whisper things in her ear that had made the woman blush. It did not make sense that _Dan Phantom_ would clip his own wings and live among the very race he despised to save Valerie (his worst enemy!) from Nathan.

"You were probably going to hurt her," he muttered under his breath as he pushed a button. The wall behind the autopsy table shuttered away, revealing a small and dark tunnel. The table sunk into the x-ray machine, and bright lights scanned over the body. "You were going to use her up until you got bored or she got too old. I don't know why I'm even doing this."

But the body never responded.

Instead, several high-resolution images of the ghost's internal structures lit Kwan's various computers. The images showed Dan Phantom's skeletal structure and multiple views of the fascial tissue. Kwan stared in curiosity, and he tilted his head.

"…Huh." He stared closer at the x-rays, looking at the specific images of the ghost's side. The tissues were disrupted and collapsed in typical entrance-wound formations. But there was something else that had him intrigued.

He pushed the button to stop the x-ray machine, and the table began to roll back out. The disguised ghost's half-lidded eyes stared to the side, still stuck in that resigned, sorrowful configuration. It was beginning to make Kwan uncomfortable. It seemed to be just too human of an expression.

"Valerie's not going to like this," Kwan told the body, biting his lip.

He stared at the body and the horrific wounds. Something about them were hard to look at now—perhaps because he knew they were real. "You really sacrificed yourself for her, huh," Kwan said. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "Did you know? I mean, really?"

The ghost's gaze suggested he hadn't.

Maybe Kwan was reading into it.

* * *

Eventually, he called Valerie to his personal office, away from the med lab and the morgue, where he had placed Dan Phantom's body after sewing up the wounds. Valerie was at the office in minutes, looking apprehensive. "What did you find out?" she asked as she shut the door behind her.

Kwan dropped a file of x-rays onto the desk. "Something I've never seen before," he admitted slowly. "His body isn't decaying like a human's or fading out like a ghost's. It's like the tissues are actually frozen, giving him the effect of a stabilized body without any consciousness."

"Can you measure a signature at all? A power core?"

Kwan shook his head. "Nothing." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "I did some x-rays on his body. Whatever Nathan shot him with—it's gone. The entrance wounds and damage paths are there. But there's no evidence of a bullet itself. It's like…it fused with him somehow. I can't even try to remove them from him."

Valerie's tense face fell. "Nothing?" she said dumbly. "You mean—he's stuck like this?"

The man sighed. "He's bled out, and Nathan's bullets are fused inside him in a way that's…not human. So, yes. I'm sorry, Valerie."

She stood there, speechless for a time, just blinking. Something about her looked uncharacteristically vulnerable. "No," she whispered shakily, "we're missing something. Maybe…maybe if we can remove the bullets somehow, he can—!"

"—And how would we do that?" Kwan asked.

"I don't know, but maybe—"

Kwan pulled away from her. "—I'm sorry, Valerie," he said again, voice torn. His words were automatic. "I know this must be hard for you."

"What, crying?" she said, voice breaking. "No, that's easy. Hard was when he was bleeding out on me. And he looked so scared, Kwan, he was trying to reach for me—" She trailed off. Her lips quivered as she tried to hold back her tears. "Where did you put him? I want to see him."

Kwan sighed, running a hand down his face. "The morgue," he said. He pulled a key out of his pocket and pushed it into her hand. "I figured…it'd be a safe place to store him."

"Thanks," she said, voice rough with emotion. The key was warm from Kwan's body heat, but it chilled her. She knew this key well, and its harsh shapes held no warmth in her memories. "I'll be back."

He stared at her for a time, feeling sympathy at the brokenness he saw in her. "Valerie," he stressed, not unkindly. "When we started this, you told me to let him die a hero. Maybe it's time you did the same."

Tears watered in her eyes. "I can't," she whispered. "I don't know how. Nathan was gonna—" Her breath hitched. "He kept telling me I was in d-danger, and I didn't—" She squeezed her eyes shut, and her tears streaked down her face. "Dammit, I didn't listen."

* * *

The morgue was a cold and familiar place. She had often identified the bodies of comrades, some of her own friends, on Kwan's steel examination tables. Now the very ghost who had tormented her rested within the encasing against the wall, next to the examination tool counter and Kwan's own chair.

Her boots clicked against the tiles with great unease as she moved forward, pocketing the room's key, and her lips quivered as she ran her fingers down the handwritten tag taped to the side of the storage unit. _D_ , it said, with that day's date and _Warning: Ectoplasmic Contamination_. Her vision blurred as she pulled out on the handle, and the door gave way, shedding fluorescent light against a white-sheet-covered body. She rolled the table out further.

Surely he wasn't actually dead. Ghosts didn't leave bodies behind like this. But when she pulled back the white sheet, it was his face. His wild and matted hair. His skin permanently bruised between pale white and blue in splotches. His pale lips pulled in that ghastly grimace of pain and fear, and his half-lidded eyes staring in a clouded nothing.

Tears began to escape her eyes as she stared at the body, realizing that this was not a dream—that it was the remains of Danny Fenton—simultaneously the bane of her existence and the only man she'd nearly loved, now so very still.

Her legs grew weak. She sat on the examiner's chair, pressing her lips together hard to keep herself from crying out loud. The silence was deafening—she flinched when the cold compression system kicked on. And then she tried to speak to him. Her voice was rough and hoarse with great pain. "You make no sense," she complained shakily. "You m-make fun of me for not being im-imortal." She wiped her eyes, inhaling uneven breaths. "And then you do this." Her voice cracked. "What the hell, you h-hypocrite?"

She slammed Kwan's notebook to the ground, waiting for Dan's eyes to snap open with a smirk. Nothing happened.

And she began to sob. She felt sick, hiding her face in her hands. Nathan had been planning on killing her and preserving her body—for what she didn't know. The possibilities were too much. But she could still feel Dan's slick blood chilling her, the way he'd weakly collapsed against her, the widening of his eyes as his consciousness faded…

It took her a moment or two to re-center herself, inhaling shaky breaths. She reached out for him as if he were an anchor, and her shaking fingertips ran down his cold temple, brushing back the strands of matted, white and black hair. "Nathan's gonna go away for a long time," she promised shakily. "He won't do anything like this again."

Dan did not respond. Of course.

Valerie gently closed his eyes so that his half-lidded gaze was no more. Then she leaned down and pressed her lips against his cold, unmoving temple. It was more tenderness than Dan Phantom, the Ravager of Worlds, deserved. She knew at some level that her own life was not worth the five billion souls he had snuffed out.

But it was still all she could do to slide the white sheet back over his face and shut his body away in the morgue's storage unit.

* * *

Within in the infirmary, Nathan's eyes opened. The world spun with pain and confusion—and _where the_ —?

His neck and chest were on fire, as if all of his nerves were exposed. He sluggishly tried to move. And then something caught at his wrists. His vision and mind sharpened. He realized he was handcuffed to a hospital bed.

For a time, he thought that was particularly odd because he'd never been handcuffed to a bed before. He supposed he'd imagined such things in his fantasies about Valerie, but it was not quite like this—He groaned, squeezing his blue eyes shut. Perhaps D had finally decided to dole out that beating he'd been promising, or maybe it was Dash.

And then he remembered. The all-encompassing rage and the cool, steady decisions. The stealing away of the fusion gun for later use. The preservation of Valerie. And the interference from D.

Nathan's eyes opened as he began to struggle against the handcuffs a little more. His whole body was on fire—Valerie (oh, that beautiful and corrupted woman!) had used some kind of weapon on him after he had tried to shoot. But D… It was as if the man had swooped out of nowhere… He began to remember more and more about his wayward attempts in the basement storage room, and he recalled the incredibly odd image of D's body being transparent as it blurred in front of Valerie, only to revert to full solidity with the hit of the first bullet.

Cold, cold water stormed through him. "G-ghost," he rasped, struggling harder. Valerie had been seduced by some kind of ghost. D had flown and gone intangible. He was a ghost. Likely a powerful one if he were so capable of a convincing human skin.

His beautiful, wayward and virginal Valerie—the target of a despicable being disguised as her ex-boyfriend...!

He didn't know what this meant. But as he was not driving out from the resistance with Valerie's beautifully preserved body in his truck (oh, how he would have _cared_ for her), he knew the information could be valuable leverage. Plan B.

A way to turn the public to his side, unlock his handcuffs, and preserve Valerie. Just the way he wanted.

* * *

When Valerie finally convinced herself to return to her room, she found the small cameras and crushed each one beneath her combat boot. The crunch and whine of the small machinery provided little compensation for the well of anger within her. It was not enough. It did not bring back Dan or erase Nathan's room of secrets from years past. So she grabbed onto the bedsheets from the floor in a desperate attempt for something familiar. They smelled more of Dan than they did of her, and for a time, she breathed in his snowstorm scent.

Her hands shook as she wrapped herself up, feeling cold and alone, thinking of the fusion gun—Nathan's psychotic, feverish eyes—and the potential what ifs. What if Nathan had shot her. What if she'd been frozen in time without the dignity to decompose. What he would have done with her body. What Dan would have done when he'd found out.

She stared into the nothing around her. The grief and anger came in waves—crashing over her in a sudden, suffocating disorientation, then tumbling past her. Just when she thought she had pulled herself together, another wave hit. The thought of him brought it on. The color blue.

Perhaps if she did not move, did not breath, did not think...She moved to hide her face in her hands, trying to fight off the pain of tears and the quiver of her lips. "Stop," she whispered at herself and the world. "Just stop."

She shuddered, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes as she cried, feeling that the world had stolen everything from her once again.

Valerie began to think that it was all her fault. She'd allowed Nathan to get away with things, letting him build up his obsession. If only she had spoken more with her friends about it. If only she'd called police and been more forceful with court appeals for restraining orders. If only she hadn't given him passing attention back in fourth grade—the start of his obsession.

Perhaps the worst thing of all was that no one truly understood. She was the only one in the world who would carry a memory of Dan's face relaxing into a genuine laugh, his eyes lighting up at the sight of food, his vocal approval of human literature. The rest of the universe would celebrate if it knew of his demise. And that somehow made the pain even worse—to know that Dan Phantom had been slowly nurturing a soul, only to get it ripped away.

For her.

* * *

By noon, the underbelly of the resistance had been flipped up in the form of one Nathan Green. He'd been given a fairly decent bill of health and had been sent to the onsite jailing facilities. But Nathan had incredible legal backing in the form of the District Attorney—his own uncle, Lester Green.

The man was a portly and large blob of a man, with footfalls like thunder and a wheeze in his breath. He carried a black briefcase with great self-importance. "Nathan," Lester greeted as he entered into the sparse room that was an interrogation room. His voice was a bit higher than his appearance suggested. He ran a ran through his greasy, thinning red hair. "I told you not to contact me, what with the elections."

Something was demonic in Nathan's gaze now. With his bound hands, he scratched at one of the bandages on his neck. The burns itched and hurt a great deal. "You'll want to hear this. I need your help."

The older man gave him a disapproving look. "My help? You've not only disregarded my advice about how to actually win over Valerie, but you attempted to kill her with an advanced weapon and murdered her boyfriend. My seat is up for election in four months. This does not look good for me. I'm only here to tell you I cannot take your case."

Nathan's face twitched at the reminder of his failed plan. "That's what they all want you to believe." Something in his voice was desperate, his mind still racing. "Trust me, uncle, this is all a huge misunderstanding, and it can work in _both_ our favors."

Lester wheezed a bit as he sat upon the chair on the other side of the table. "Enlighten me, then," he said. He cast a file at Nathan, and from out of the manila folder came a few black and white candid photos of a half-dressed Valerie Gray. "The evidence is against you. You look like a crazed, psychopathic stalker right now, and I've half a mind to prosecute you myself so I can maintain the family name."

Nathan stared down at the exposed photos, something overcoming him again—a primal need he barely controlled until he looked up at his uncle again, eyes chaotic. "I've been following her for years, I'll admit." His voice was a rush, a maddened unfurling of his tongue. "I put the cameras in her room. I pulled the trigger. But it was for the good of the resistance and for Valerie herself, I swear."

The District Attorney raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Valerie is a traitor," Nathan declared wildly, scratching at his bandages again. He was spinning wild stories now, the lies and twisted truths coming easier to his tongue. "I've been watching her for odd behavior. My undercover surveillance proves she's been dismantling the resistance from the inside out. I think she's under the control of someone else."

The lawyer blinked. "I've never heard of a guilty plea quite like this one."

"I know," Nathan said quickly, lips twitching up in a mad desperation. "I know—I'm different. I'm the hero. I did what I had to do to save everyone. And Valerie. Uncle, I could make you the greatest lawyer in all of Amity Park if you just _listen to me_. You'll be a savior."

Lester began toying with his briefcase, unlocking it to pull out pen and paper. "I don't think hundreds of naked pictures of Valerie proves she's a traitor to Amity Park's cause, or that you're a hero. And what about her boyfriend that you shot? You didn't save him from anything."

Nathan laughed. "You don't get it. _He_ was the threat. The puppet master. The ghost."

"…Pardon?"

"Valerie loves a _ghost_ ," Nathan declared. "D is a ghost. Is that even his real name? D?"

Lester set down his pen, picking up on the strain of truth in Nathan's words. "You're saying D isn't human? Only humans can live beneath this Shield."

Nathan's jaw set. "I know what I saw. When I tried to shoot Valerie with the fusion bullets, D appeared in front of her, out of nowhere. It wasn't human at all."

"You hit your head, Nathan," Lester said, voice slow. "That's impossible."

His voice shook, his eyes wild. "No!" he said. "It's not—think about it. Valerie is the only one with that much access to the Shield, the outside world, the inner workings of the resistance administration. She could probably get a ghost into Amity Park. I know what I saw, Uncle. _D is a ghost_. And Valerie is a traitor. Her own father was getting ready to integrate D into the main administration. D was set to take over."

Lester said, mulling over Nathan's story, "A fascinating thought, I suppose."

Nathan looked possessed, his eyes wild with pain. "It's not just a thought," he snapped. "Valerie's been a mole for years. The woman _I loved_ —she was working with ghosts the whole time. Maybe even with Phantom."

"And what in the world would her motive be?" Lester demanded, raising a busy eyebrow. "This is a rather large conspiracy theory, Nate."

"She's in love with him," the younger man said, voice twisting with heartbreak. "All she sees is him. You can't trust her. He's ruined her mind, and he's been working hard to get her to sleep with him to seal some black magic contract. She's losing her ability to resist."

The lawyer fell silent at that, measuring up Nathan's sincere belief that D was a ghost. "Your counter-prosecution depends on your ability to _prove_ D is a ghost."

Nathan nodded, unfazed. "I know. But if I really stopped him, then his body should still be in the morgue. All we'd need is a run on the ENA, and I know you're going to find ENA. He's a ghost." His thin lips twitched with an odd smirk. "When the truth gets out, we'll be heroes. Valerie and her father will be outed from administration—and you'll be the next in line for every major position of authority in Amity Park."

The thought was rather pleasant to Lester, who wanted nothing more if not control and recognition. But he still tapped his fingers against the table. "If you're right, you realize Valerie Gray could potentially face a firing squad for treason. Is that what you want?"

Nathan bit his lip. "Since she defamed _me_ , I think it's only fair that I get to sentence her. If you were the new resistance administrator, you could make that happen. Strip her of her titles and get rid of that battle suit in her blood. Make her work under me." The thought of Valerie stripped or beneath him in any way made his blood surge hot. With time, and with D out of the way, he could wear her mind down again until she no longer resisted him. And then he would still be able to save her, keep her all to himself.

Lester's lips stretched. "I see your angle now."

"We'd all win," Nathan bargained, eyes hard. "Uncle, this is what we've been waiting for."

"Yes, I suppose it is." Lester crossed his arms. "I would gain power—you would have Valerie. At least, in body."

Nathan's blood pumped faster. "That's all I need."

* * *

Lester Green, appearing as the distant but well-respected lawyer, visited the attending doctor Kwan and demanded to see D's body in the morgue. "I must review the facts," he declared, "to best understand my client Nathan Green and the situation at hand."

Kwan gave him a tight smile. "You…want to see the body?"

"Yes, I believe that is exactly what I requested."

"It's, uh, a little disturbing."

Lester gave him a bland look. "My boy, I've prosecuted murderers who mutilated and ate women. I think I can handle five shots and physical distortions."

Kwan nervously blushed. "Oh, right. Of course." Lester Green, to the vast public, was a highly respected authority figure. In many ways, the public saw him as the next authority behind the mayor, Valerie's father, and Valerie herself—even if Lester's nephew was something of a disappointment to the family. Kwan fumbled a bit with the key to the morgue, praying that Dan Phantom's body was still there and that Lester would not suspect him of any underhanded wrong-doing.

The old lawyer trailed behind Kwan, wheezing a bit with the exertion it took to walk to the morgue. "What tests have you performed on the body?"

Kwan swallowed hard. "I, uh, did a physical exam. Took some x-rays."

"Very good," the lawyer said as they entered into the room. "And what did you find?"

"Uh, some concerning data around the effects of the bullets? It's not like any other gunshot wound I've seen." Kwan tried to hide the shake in his hands as he pulled out the storage unit labelled _D_. A covered body was still unmoving within it.

 _Oh thank god,_ Kwan thought, pulling the rolling slab out. "Here you go," he told the lawyer respectfully, stepping back.

Lester unceremoniously pulled back the sheet, and then blinked. He stared at the white-streaked hair, the purpling skin. He grabbed a pen from Kwan's table and then raised a pale lip on the dead body. A pearly white fang shined in the fluorescent light above. He opened one of the eyes. Hollow, ruby red.

"…Interesting," Lester said. "This man shows very inhuman traits about him. Tell me," he added without passion, "did Nathan Green's weapon have any mechanism to it that would result in these distortions?"

Kwan stuttered. "Uh, honestly sir—I'm just a doctor. I don't know much about guns. I assumed it infected him somehow."

"I see. I'll have to check in with the Russians who built it to confirm." Lester stood up to his full, hulking height, casting Kwan's pen carelessly back onto the nearby counter. "Can you run a blood sample against our known databases? I'd like to confirm D's identity. For the purpose of normal court proceedings, of course."

Kwan blinked, heart pounding a bit. "Uh, of course."

"Thank you, doctor. Your compliance is greatly appreciated."

"Anytime," Kwan said, pulling the cover back over the ghost's body, trying to hide his own panic. "No problem at all."

But as Lester walked away, a dark look was in the lawyer's eyes. And then his lips stretched in a way that was not unlike Nathan's smirk.

Humans didn't have fangs and red eyes like D did, Lester knew. The potential that Nathan's story was true—it was becoming even more attractive to pursue.

A very good start to his campaign for power.

* * *

"Hello, Miss Gray." Lester Green greeted a little later, opening Valerie's office door without so much of a knock. "I'm here to gather information from you about the…recent incident." He peered at her in great suspicion.

Valerie looked up with bleary, bloodshot eyes. She looked disheveled and worn. "It's Commander Gray to you," she snapped.

"Yes, well, I'm sure this is all so very difficult for you."

Her voice was pained. "He was your _nephew._ I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to see you."

"I hardly know Nathan and am not responsible for his own actions. But that's not important. What _is_ important, Miss Gray—"

"—Commander Gray—"

"—is learning the facts about what happened. If you please."

She gave him a hard look. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

Lester gave her a pleasant, soulless mile. "I understand, but it's imperative I record details before the truth gets…twisted."

For a time, she beheld him as a plague, knowing that he would not go away until she gave him what he wanted. And so with halted words, she repeated her version of the story, carefully blurring past some of the details that would have created suspicion regarding D.

The overweight lawyer appeared to listen attentively for some time, but he noticed when she hesitated and stumbled over herself to create a detail. A lie. By the time she came to the end of the story with her father arriving in the hidden basement room, Lester turned on her suddenly, his visage twisting dark. "And how about D's true identity? Were you aware that you were harboring a disguised fugitive ghost?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Miss Gray—"

"— _Commander Gray_ ," she corrected, eyes narrowing.

"Whatever. If Nathan was attempting to stop a military takeover from the enemy, his actions might prove to be the very salvation of Amity Park. Is that what was really happening—you were allowing D, a ghost, to infiltrate the resistance?"

Valerie's jaw dropped. "Excuse me? Have you—do you have _any fucking idea_ what Nathan has done? Have you seen his damn shrine? All of my emails requesting your help in stopping him from stalking me?"

Lester Green had dark eyes, almost black. They narrowed at her. "I understand that Nathan has infringed on your privacy, which will most certainly result in his prosecution for such. But this is a much minor charge compared to your treason."

"My treason? But _he_ tried to murder _me_! And he shot D—five times." Her voice broke. " _Five_ times."

The D.A. tilted his head. "And yet you're still here—and D's body is a freakshow testament that he was not a natural human being but in fact a ghost." He threw a file on the table. "I looked over the schematics of the weapon Nathan had designed. Although suitably disturbing in its own right, it could not possibly create the physical transformations as seen in D's dead body. If he's a ghost, Valerie, that begs the question of how he got into our incredibly secure anti-ghost Shield that _you_ built and designed. Which means, if D is found to be a ghost, you will come under investigation for treason." He smiled. "That has the capital punishment attached to it, which you threatened my nephew with. A firing squad."

Her jaw dropped.

The tension between them rose to an unfathomable height, with Lester staring at her in great accusation. "My nephew saw it, Valerie. He _saw_ D use his powers."

She stood up from her chair, planting her hands on her desk hard. "Get out," she snapped, voice low. Her face was tight with fear and anger. "You get out of my office, right now, or so help me, I'll…"

The lawyer began to smile. "You're a good fighter, Valerie, but a terrible liar. And I would not suggest threatening me unless you would like to add to the charges with which my firm will counter-prosecute you. Have a good evening, while you still can." And then he heaved his portly self up from the chair, leaving her to stew in the silence of his accusations.

Valerie let him go without saying anything further, afraid to incriminate herself. It was deafening for a time, Lester's presence like some lingering disease that had infected even the corners in the room.

 _They know,_ Valerie realized. It'd only been twelve hours since Nathan had shot Dan, but Lester was smart and Nathan wasn't stupid. Her hand began to shake. She was having a panic attack—a flash back to Dan's body leaning into her as he choked on blood, trails slipping down his lips—

She squeezed her eyes shut, sweat breaking across her temple. And then she slid down against the wall, feeling entirely out of control. Tears streaked down her dark face, and suddenly all she could think of was Dan's long fingers touching her skin as he murmured, " _All plots tend to lead deathward_."

"Oh my god," she breathed shakily, hyperventilating. "Oh my god."

* * *

The morgue was silent as the sun set on the resistance. It was cool, the generators kicking on to preserve the several bodies lying within the large storage container.

But within the storage unit labeled _D_ , an odd glow erupted.

Dan's body suddenly arched off the table, every muscle and tendon tightening as a bright light glowed from his power core—then flickered out. His back slammed down, and the whole storage container shook. The body fell into silence again, the white sheet rumpled over it.

For a time, nothing happened.

Then a green glow seeped from beneath the blanket, and the body arched up again. Several metal clings echoed. When the body fell from its spasm, the storage container shook a bit harder.

The fingers began to twitch beneath the blanket. And then the green glow erupted almost bright white. This time, the eyes opened, the irises dilating wide with the soul of Dan Phantom. For a time, he did nothing but stare at the darkness in oblivion, mind scattered. There was a droning need within him— _get up get up get up_ —

Dan disjointedly moved to sit—and he slammed his temple against the low metal ceiling. "Ngh!" He fell back with a groan, stunned as he gasped hard, his red eyes widening. Immediately, they lightened to blue. The purple splotches upon his face disappeared under the natural command of his illusion. His fangs sunk back into smooth, human teeth.

Panic overwhelmed him. The darkness was blinding, and he couldn't see a damn thing—His pale, shaking hand reached out from beneath the white sheet. Metal, he felt, fingers running against rivets. A metal box. The foundations beneath him felt unstable and rolling. If he pushed against the metal sides, the metal beneath him rolled forward, then stopped. His bare feet hit more metal.

Goose-bumps tore down his body. He instinctively kicked at the metal, and it gave way, a doorway opening. Bright, fluorescent light. _The light at the end of the tunnel—?_

"Mmh," he groaned in complaint, confused and weak. His scattered mind decided that the light had to be better than the metal box, and so he began pushing the rolling table out from the box. Fluorescent light slid up his body until it struck his dilated eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was too late. The light had cut deep into his retinas, burning them.

A searing pain tore through his vision and spread through the whole of his head. His power core pulsed in his ear, as if it would jump from his chest.

"Ugh," he groaned again, hiding his face in his hands. "The…fuck?"

For a time, he simply lay there in the silence of the fluorescent light, unable to think beyond the nausea and pain within him. He was fairly certain this was what hell felt like. Maybe he'd gone there. And then, as his eyes adjusted, he realized what kind of room it was and why he'd been trapped in a metal box—which was not hell but something similar.

"Morgue," he breathed, his baritone voice a rough gravel. He struggled to sit up on the table, and another metallic ping echoed beneath him. The metal objects rolled in an echo, and he look down in surprise.

He'd popped out four fusion bullets. His own fusion powers had slowly worked against them, instinctively pushing them out as foreign to his body. He looked at his bare side, lips pulling down in horror as his fingers brushed against the torn, puffed skin and unnatural black stitches in neat rows, some disrupted flesh having pulled away at where the bullets had popped out. His fingers began to shake from too much exertion, his ectoplasmic blood circulating more quickly. He felt violated and tender in odd ways, suddenly afraid to touch his now-sluggishly-bleeding side, which made him nauseated to look at.

Then Dan realized his clothes were missing and that his only cover was a white sheet. His face twisted—and in his daze, he clumsily tried to tie it around his waist. His power core felt uneasy—like an upset stomach or heartburn. For a time, he simply held his head and bowed over himself, knowing at some core level that his abilities were still frozen. His mind was scattered.

Then— _Valerie_.

Everything came back at once with the force of a battering ram. The fear. The image of the bullet racing at Valerie's heart—her tears as she ran shaking fingers down his face, babbling in terror—

His face twisted in great pain and shock, his hands falling away as he sat up. "Valerie," he breathed, her name a caress against his mind. The woman with the dark skin and sharp tongue for whom he felt a sudden, all-encompassing desire to find. To affirm she was still safe.

With a groan, he forced himself off of the table, and he stumbled hard to the tiled floor, jarring his whole body. Fusion bullets coated in dried blood rolled away from him. Nausea and confusion took hold again, and he lay there for a time. Then he pulled himself up, grabbing onto the table, his dark hair blocking his vision. "Valerie," he rasped again. His power core was still flickering from the fusion drain on his system.

And so Dan leaned against the wall, struggling to remain on his hands and knees. He felt quite willing to collapse, but he pushed himself forward, one inch at a time. A phone was on the counter. If he could get to it… Valerie…

He searched his fragmented memory for the number he'd seen on her desk phone. The flicker of numbers barely registered to him, but it was there. His whole body protested his desperate reach for the phone, which was a slick metal gray. His shaky attempt to punch in numbers forced him to retry several times.

By the third attempt, that damnably terse voice crackled back. " _This is Commander Gray—what the hell do you want_."

For a second, he did not know if he could get his voice to work. "V-Valerie," he rasped, the word an uneven breath of relief. And then his energy ran out, and he slid down against the cabinets. "V—"

The other end went completely silent.

He tried to speak again, but he could only lie there, struggling to recalibrate. He knew only that he needed her.

Then there was a sudden click—she'd hung up. Dan closed his eyes, hoping that Valerie did not think it some kind of cruel joke. He sunk against the floor with failing strength. The sound of the morgue's cooling system kicked in with a hiss, and a minute passed in silence. Perhaps, he thought, he would be left here to bleed out and convulse again. And then a sound—the slamming open of the door—echoed in his ears.

He blearily looked up, and then his haggard face bled in relief. "V-val—"

The woman stood at the doorway, face stricken as her battle suit retracted back into her usual uniform. Her uniform was rumpled, her hair in a wild twist, teal eyes bloodshot. "Dan?" she whispered, heart failing.

He did not know of a sight more pleasing to him than her. His voice was but a shudder as he struggled up to reach for her. "Val—"

Valerie fell to her knees before him, quickly grabbing under his arms to support him, sobbing. "Oh my God. What the hell." Her voice rose high with a breathless hitch. "You're not—I mean—"

He leaned hard against her, barely caring that the white sheet around his waist was slipping or that he was gasping for air, holding onto her with shaking fingers. He gripped her as if she were the only tether to existence.

Her strong hands steadied him as she slipped her fingers behind his neck and at his side, pulling him close. He leaned against her shoulder, closing his exhausted eyes. "Y-you're….h-here," he rasped in pain.

Dan's voice was weak in ways she'd never heard. But the sound of his baritone voice and the feel of his solid body made her cry in joy and pain and hate and anger and—

"You bastard," she whispered shakily, leaning her head against his as she held him tight. Her body was shaking. "That was a d-dirty t-trick. You hear me? Oh my god. It was all a trick."

He felt dizzy and pulled into pieces. "N-no trick," he complained. Her fingers brushed against his mottled and injured side, and he gasped in sudden pain, squeezing his eyes shut. "Ngh," he moaned at her touch over his sluggishly bleeding wounds. He burrowed into her heat and the sound of her pumping heart, fully collapsing against her.

Valerie's sob shook him, her breath hitching her voice as she wrapped her arms tighter around him. "How the hell," she cried, applying pressure on his bleeding side. "How is this possible?"

Dan was too fragmented to explain that his own fusion powers had managed to counteract the bullets. "Powers," he said raggedly.

It was good enough of an explanation for her.

"Then don't leave," Valerie demanded, struggling to breathe in the snowstorm scent that was uniquely Dan. She squeezed her eyes tight, and tears streaked down her face and into his matted hair. "Don't you _ever_ do this again."

He moaned, still feeling a bit ill. "Don't ever h-have…a s-stalker again." He hid his face in her neck and the bundle of her curly hair, which smelled of sand and exotic flowers. Warm things.

"I hate you," she whispered, crying as she hugged him tighter. "Oh my god, I hate you so much."

He said nothing, but his non-beating heart swelled. Valerie's touch and her rough voice was as a balm to him. He wanted nothing more than to remain in her arms. To feel her relief. He shakily wrapped his arms around her middle. "H-hate you. Too."

"I'm never forgiving you," Valerie breathed. "This was a dirty trick, you son of a bitch. Do you have any idea what you put me through? I really thought you were dead." A sob worked its way up in her voice. "That you weren't coming back."

Dan moaned. "No trick," he said again, breathless. "D-didn't—plan…" His side pulsed with a sharp pang, and he flinched in her arms, suddenly feeling nauseated all over again.

Valerie knew he was still bleeding. It took her full strength to pull away. "You're not healing," she breathed, mind racing. She damned herself for not having medical expertise of any kind.

The cold, red blood still occasionally glowed with green as Dan struggled to maintain his illusion. "'m fine," he said unsteadily, swallowing hard at the way his body was trying to circulate ectoplasm to his damaged side. It burned.

"You are _not_ fine," Valerie said adamantly, terrified. Her shaky fingers pressed harder against his side. Her fingers were beginning to coat more steadily with the red blood seeping through the stitches. "This is getting worse—"

Just then, the door creaked open, and a gasped echoed. Valerie craned her neck in fear, only to witness one incredibly shocked Kwan drop several files, paper flying everywhere in a flutter. His face paled to pure white as he looked back at her, frozen.

Dan Phantom. In Valerie's arms. _Dan Phantom was awake._

"Kwan!" Her voice was desperate with relief."Kwan, okay, don't panic. Please. He's bleeding out, and I don't know—"

Dan raggedly moaned, "—B-bullet." He could feel it now. The fifth and final bullet was still in his system, ravaging his insides. He felt as if he would vomit. "Fifth. B-bullet…"

Kwan flinched at the sound of the ghost's voice. Then he tentatively approached, looking for all the world as if he were approaching a caged animal. "What the—?" He looked faint. "You were…I put you in the…"

In short order, Valerie helped Dan to stand, throwing one of his arms over her shoulder. The ghost winced as she raised him up. "I have to get him out of here," she said quickly, the tears on her cheeks flashing in the light. "He needs help. Something's still wrong."

Dan looked shaken and pale, his dark hair as straggles down his shoulders. And then he stumbled hard against Valerie, gagging as the pool of blood in his stomach heaved.

The woman flinched as dark blood began to slip from Dan's lips down his neck and chest. "Oh my god," she breathed, stopping suddenly. Panic tightened her face at the thought that he would leave her again. She craned her neck to Kwan. "Please." Her voice broke. " _Please_."

The doctor stared back in hesitance for a second or two. "You know what he is," he said shakily. "Val…"

"Dammit, I know," she snapped. "He needs _help_."

The sound of the man choking, the look of betrayal in Valerie's eyes—it made Kwan move forward against his better judgment. "...Come on, then," he said fearfully, grabbing onto Dan's free arm and swinging it over his shoulder. The man's bare arm was cold and trembling. Kwan figured the infamous Dan Phantom was in no condition to kill, and Valerie's pained expression was enough to tip the scales in their favor. "Let's get him back to the med lab before anyone sees this."

Valerie blinked, and tears ran down her face. "Okay."

And so the three limped forward. The disguised ghost gave a ragged inhale and a cough as he leaned his whole weight against Valerie and Kwan. "Ngh," he complained, voice gurgling. "N-no more—s-stalkers…"

"No more dying on me," she snapped right back in fear and relief.

Dan moaned, too tired to even glare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review with your thoughts, constructive criticisms, questions, and/or dark gray prompt ideas! Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Please review with your thoughts, constructive criticisms, questions, and/or dark gray prompt ideas! Thank you for reading!


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